Redemption
by dogsrock101
Summary: "You cannot outrun Fate. You tried to run from it before, but in the end, Destiny caught up to you." She deserted the Grimleal long ago, but Fate is cruel, and so it is that Validar finds her many years later. He strikes a bargain with her: she infiltrates the Shepherds as a double agent, and he drops all charges of treason. Who is she to refuse such an offer?
1. Prologue: Fated Encounter

She had feared the day he would find her. She had always known the day would come, that their Fates were too intertwined. Just like her parents had served him, and her grandparents had served his parents, and so on and so forth, she was to serve him. It was her Destiny. It was what she'd been trained to do since birth, the sole reason for her existence. Still she hid in the shadows, running in vain from a meeting that was inevitable.

He came to her, shrouded in the darkness of the night. She was so shocked to see him standing in the doorway of the tavern that she was foolish enough not to flee; instead, she stared at him, as if in a trance. Feeling her gaze on him, he twisted his head to look at her, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. His eyes were as black and heartless as she'd remembered them, and they bored into her own with great intensity.

Time seemed to slow. The dancing and laughter and music of the pub-goers drowned out of her mind. Cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck, and she clenched on so tightly to her cup that it shattered in her hands. She felt the shards pierce her skin and the wetness of whiskey and blood ooze down her hand.

She finally broke eye contact with the cold black eyes to look down at the mess she had made. The bartender was saying some kind of nonsense about finding bandages for her while he cleaned the mess.

"I'm alright," she said, though her voice shook slightly. She quickly began to pull out the shards from her hand. "Just get me another drink."

The bartender was affronted. "But, miss, you're hurt!"

"I said I'm fine." Her voice no longer shook; it was sharp and impatient. "Now get me another drink."

"One for me as well, if you will."

She stiffened. No matter how many years it had been, she would never forget that voice, so quiet but so chilling.

"Of course, miss, sir." The bartender bowed his head and quickly left to fetch their drinks. She was silent, and dared not raise her eyes. Her lips quivered.

"Nyphurri." He said her name like one would his lover. She cringed. Then, her face expressionless, she slowly raised her eyes to meet his. She noted the toll the years had taken on him, and briefly she wondered how she must've looked to him.

He was smiling. Smiles were rare from him – or, at least, the time she'd known him, they were – and it reminded her why she preferred his stoic expression so much more.

"What?" he asked softly. "Are you not going to greet me, after all these years? And here I thought we'd been friends!"

Friends? She would've laughed in his face if she hadn't feared the repercussions. He was her superior, and always would be.

"I was once but your lowly servant, my lord Validar," she spoke at last. Her voice was hoarse, but strong and determined. "Never would you deem me a friend, and rightfully so."

He did not reply immediately. The bartender returned, handing each of them a drink. Validar stared into the brown depths of his while Nyphurri drained hers in a single gulp. "What if you could be more than a servant, though?" His voice was now but a whisper. "What if I could offer you greatness?"

Anger suddenly flared in her. Slamming her empty cup down in front of her, she turned to face him, her dark eyes alight with fury. He appeared faintly amused by her reaction, the corner of his lips curving upwards.

"Then I would not believe it," she replied flatly. What little there was of his smile disappeared. "Do not mock me; I am no fool." She had thrown all caution to the wind, for she was furious and past pleasantries. "You are here to kill me, so hurry and be done with it. I tire of all this talk."

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, he threw back his jewel-encrusted head and laughed. So surprised was she that she knocked over her empty cup; at the same time, she flicked her wrist, and a dagger fell into her hand. She tightened her grip on it.

"Oh, my dear Nyphurri! I am not here to kill you!" His laughter slowly died away, and the smile fell from his lips. "Do put away your dagger."

She smirked ruefully. "Your eyes are as keen as ever." She tossed the dagger carelessly on the tabletop between them. "Or perhaps my skills have rusted over the years."

"I find the latter hard to believe." She raised an eyebrow. If she didn't know any better, Validar had just offered her a compliment, and everybody knew that he had never been one for such flowery nonsense. "How else could you have been here in Plegia all along, scurrying right under my nose and that of the Grimleal Council, without getting caught?"

Her smirk became cocky. "I have only recently returned to my homeland. But it appears I have done so most foolishly."

He cocked his head to the side, looking rather like a vulture scrutinizing its meal. "Foolish, perhaps," he agreed, "but it seems Fate has something planned for you, my dear girl."

She arched an eyebrow high. "And what, pray tell, does She have in store for me?"

He smirked. "A chance at redemption."

Her throat suddenly felt dry. His smirk only widened. He swirled the liquid in his cup before finally taking a sip of it.

"To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten all about you." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. "It has been many years since we have last met, and I had much more to worry about than another deserter." She stiffened in her seat but said nothing. "But when I saw you sitting at this here bar, I remembered. I was angry, of course, at first." He chuckled softly. "But then I knew what our meeting meant. Fate has drawn us here together tonight."

"Fate has a cruel sense of humor, do you not agree?" Her voice was barely audible, but Validar heard her, and he threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh, yes, She surely does. You and I, of all people, understand that." He smiled at her, and she only stared blankly back. Her face was a mask. "But Her humor is not for naught. She offers both of us a chance to be something more."

She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "Humor me."

He smirked and drank more of his draught. "I wish to offer you a job."

She laughed sharply. "Your sense of humor is even crueler than of Fate." Her voice was stinging, and any less of a man would've cringed at her tone. Validar, however, only smiled.

"Whatever do you mean?"

She leaned in towards him, placing both hands on the table. "I have failed you once already; why would you give me a chance to do it again? If this is some sort of twisted plan of yours to get me into the grasp of the Council at last, I expected more from you."

He suddenly grasped onto her arm, his long nails biting into her skin. She hissed and tried to escape his grip, but he only tightened his hold on her. "Watch your cheek." His voice was soft and deadly, and she felt her very bones chill. His nails dug harder into her skin, drawing blood. "Lest you wish to feel the wrath of Lord Validar."

She did not respond, hanging her head. He released her, wiping off the blood on her cloak. If this action angered her, she did not show it. He smirked softly.

"Forgive me, my lord." Her voice was as hollow as her expression. "I meant no disrespect." Her hands curled up into fists on her lap.

"You've only forgotten your place. But that can easily be fixed." Her eyes flickered. "Now, what do you say to my offer?"

She pretended to consider it, but she already knew her answer. She did not have much a choice. Cruel indeed was Fate. "If I refuse, you will kill me, will you not?"

He smiled. "Cunning as ever."

"And the Council?"

"Oh, do not worry about them, my dear." He waved his hand vaguely. "All charges of your treason will drop as soon as you are employed by me."

So shocked was she that she couldn't conceal her surprise; her mouth fell open and her eyes widened.

"...This a risky move you take on your behalf, Lord Validar," she said at last, when she had regained her composure. "Many years it's been since I have spied for my Grimleal kin. What makes you think I will not turn my back on you again?"

He smirked. "I place my trust in Fate, as you should learn to do."

She heaved a heavy sigh. There was no point in trying to talk circles around him anymore; he had won, she had lost, and they both knew it. "Very well. I find myself in your employ once more. What shall be my first mission?"

"First and foremost..." He downed the rest of drink. "You shall help me become Plegia's new King." He grinned at her. "And then we will see what path Fate leads us to next."

* * *

 _Honestly, I don't know how I feel about this story. It feels incomplete for a one-shot. Originally I'd intended for this to be a multi-chapter story, but then I realized that I simply do not have the motivation nor time to commit myself to such a story. With the ideas I have for it, it can't be completed in a few short chapters. But I still liked the idea I came up with, so I decided to publish this "one-shot" anyway._

 _I'd like to hear your thoughts! Feedback and critique is always appreciated, and since I feel unsure about this story, it is doubly appreciated! Thank you!_


	2. The Grimleal Council

"It is time for new beginnings in Plegia!" Validar cried, throwing a bony hand up in the air. His crowd roared in agreement, clapping their hands and stomping their feet. "We will rebuild our ruined towns and our broken people. We shall rise again from the ashes and show the world the strength of Plegia's good people! Together!"

The roaring of the crowd was now deafening. Validar grinned and extended his arms toward them as if he was trying to embrace them all.

"Validar for King!" they chanted. "Lord Validar for King!"

"Thank you, my good people!" he shouted. "And good night!"

He descended down the podium and into the throng of people. A tall woman with white-blonde hair stood waiting for him, and took his arm as they made their way through the crowd. Unbeknownst to the crowd, a figure clad in black silently walked along the shadows, carefully watching the movements of the lord.

"Validar for King!" the crowd continued to chant. Plegian women and men alike extended their hands out to him as he passed. He smiled and nodded and said words of reassurance as he passed, touching the hands of those that could reach him.

It took them a while to get through the throng of people. Once they were through, however, Validar said one last goodbye before he and his companion stepped into a carriage waiting for them. They rode away towards the setting sun.

"Finally," the woman hissed, settling down in her seat. She brushed away at her shoulders as if there was dirt on them. "I still do not see why you must touch the hands of those filthy peasants, Father." She wrinkled in nose.

Validar smiled at her. "You know very well that I must appeal to the people, my dear child. If that means I must soil my hands in exchange for a castle, then so be it."

"Well said, Lord Validar." A voice spoke from the corner of the carriage. "It seems you still have much to learn, Lady Aversa."

Aversa's face darkened considerably. "And it seems you must learn your manners," she snarled. "I do not like the way you hide in the shadows."

"She is right," agreed Validar. "Do come out of your hiding."

There was a sigh and a rustle, and out of the dark corner of the carriage a hooded figure leapt to life. The hood was lowered to reveal a woman in her late twenties. Her skin was dark – almost as dark as Validar's – and her purple hair was so deep and dark that it could've easily been mistaken for black. Her cheeks were high and sharp, but sharper still were her cunning eyes.

"That's better," Validar said with a smile, settling down further in his seat. "Now, tell us. Did you see anything unusual brewing in the crowd today?"

She sighed softly and threw her hands behind her head. "No, I didn't. The people were practically kissing your feet." She smirked wryly. "If I may say so, my lord, the throne is as good as yours."

Aversa laughed condescendingly. "Of course it is!" Nyphurri did not appreciate being talked down to as if she were a five year old; a flicker of annoyance passed her face. "We are simply ensuring that we make the people _think_ that they have a say in choosing the next King. We cannot repeat the same mistakes the fool Gangrel made by alienating the people."

"Indeed." Validar nodded. "I reckon the castle will be mine by the next full moon."

"I've wanted to speak with you on that matter. Does–" The carriage hit a bump in the road, cutting Nyphurri's sentence short. Only then did she peer out the window and at the dark roads to realize that they were not heading towards her inn. "Where is this carriage heading?" She frowned.

"To the Council," Validar replied matter-of-factedly. She turned towards him sharply, her dark eyes narrowed. "For a hearing."

"A hearing?" Her face suddenly paled and the light died from her eyes. "A hearing about what?" Yet it was clear by the fear in her eyes that she already knew the answer.

"About you, of course."

She inhaled sharply through her nose. "I thought you said all charges of treason would drop once I was in your employ." Her voice warbled for a moment. Then her eyes hardened, and her expression of fear was quickly replaced with anger. "Was I foolish for taking your word?" Her tone was now harsh and accusing.

Aversa bristled and moved as if to speak, but Validar held up a hand. Though her eyebrows were still furrowed and her eyes were alight with indignation, she leaned back in her seat. Her eyes remained hard on the other woman.

"Dearest Nyphurri," Validar said softly, leaning in towards her. She stayed seated, glaring at him still. "It seems those years of exile have made you more cautious and less trusting than ever. Traits most helpful for a spy, of course, but I fear they will be your undoing." Her eyes flickered. "You must trust me, at the very least, and Aversa. I promised you that all charges of treason will be dropped, and dropped they will be."

"…Then why the hearing?" Her voice was softer now, but her eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.

"The Council should be aware of your return, and they must decide what to do about you. I shall make sure that they decide to drop the charges, of course," he added, when he saw that she did not seem too pleased by this news.

"But you cannot guarantee that they will drop the charges," argued Nyphurri. "You may be Head of the Council, but you can be overruled."

Validar chuckled softly. "You have thought of every possibility, it seems. Ease yourself, my dear, and worry not. All will work out in the end; you shall see."

She didn't reply. Instead, she turned away from him and looked up at the night sky, wondering where in the stars her Fate was written.

* * *

The chamber of the Council was as dark as she'd remembered it. Cold, too. It seemed like they had never fixed the problem with the draft. And they considered themselves grand Sorcerers! Nyphurri would've laughed if she wasn't frozen with fear.

Validar stepped in first, then Aversa, and Nyphurri a step behind. The quiet murmurings came to a halt as all eyes turned towards them. For a moment, it was so silent that it seemed nobody was even drawing breath. Then somebody spoke.

"It is good to see you again, Lord Validar, Lady Aversa." The man who spoke was of short stature, and his hair and beard was white; he seemed to glow in the dimness of the chamber. Nyphurri vaguely remembered him, though she had trouble recalling his name and position. "I was not expecting you to bring a companion with you." He eyed Nyphurri pointedly. A few murmurs went around the room.

Nyphurri glared at Validar. Hearing indeed!

Validar must've sensed her glare, though he said naught of it. He only smirked and kept his eyes on his fellow Council members. "Forgive me, my good sirs and ladies. I know it is short notice, but I wish for Nyphurri to be a part of this meeting."

It was silent again for the briefest of moments. Then, suddenly, a Councilman cried out incredulously, "Nyphurri?!"

A bright flame flickered in the dark, and a fire arose in the middle of the room. The torches that hung around the rims of the round chamber were then lit. The chamber glowed orange and shadows danced upon the walls. "Nyphurri!" he shouted again, sounding breathless, when he confirmed with his own eyes that it was her.

The chamber was suddenly filled with outraged shouts and confused murmurs. Despite knowing that they were all directed at her, she relished hearing her name spoken in the accent of her people; for they all rolled their r's when they said her name, as they ought to. Only Plegians could say her name correctly, and so she had not heard anybody say her name properly since she had last been in Plegia (save a few Plegians here and there she had encountered over the years of her self-exile).

"You have brought her here for execution, I hope, Validar!" The name of the small old man finally clicked in her head. He was Ragul, eldest of the Elders. She was surprised that so little a man could look so furious and intimidating.

"Off with her head!" shouted another, throwing a fist in the air angrily. Others echoed their agreement. Nyphurri noted that it was only the Elders who spoke ill of her; the younger Council members only appeared confused.

"Oh, yes," Nyphurri said to Validar out of the corner of her mouth. "They seem most eager to drop all charges."

Aversa seemed most amused by this turn of events. She stood smirking with her back to the wall, arms folded across her chest.

"Gentleman! Ladies!" Validar shouted over the noise. The noise died down considerably and instantly, but still the Elders muttered angrily to one another, their white eyebrows drawn together. "I am not here to execute our dear old friend. In fact, I've employed her."

"WHAT?!" The Elders shouted altogether at once. Their anger was causing the flames of the torches and fire to flicker irritably.

"How dare you employ her without counseling us first!" growled Maoul, the youngest of the Elders.

"And just what were you thinking?" added Luthin, Maoul's brother. "She is a traitor, a deserter! She has no place among our ranks!"

Nyphurri could no longer keep quiet; her pride would not allow it. Ignoring Validar's warning glance, she stepped forth, baring her teeth. "I am no traitor!" Color rushed to her cheeks. Her eyes reflected the flames, and they flickered angrily. "A deserter I shall admit to being, but a traitor I am not!"

"Deserter, traitor: same thing, different names!" Idre's blue eyes glowed orange from the flames. "You have betrayed us once, and you will do so again!"

"She shall not." Validar's voice was commanding and chilling, and all fell silent. "Fate has spoken, my friends. She is one of Us."

"Can you be so sure?" dared Ragul. "She may have been one of Us, years ago, but when she betrayed us she broke the pact of the Council."

"I fear age is catching up to you, my dear Lord Ragul." Validar smiled, and Ragul scoffed. "Have you forgotten about the blood of the Eighth that runs through her veins? It secures her a place here for as long as her heart beats."

The Elders bristled angrily at this reminder.

"The Eighth?"

All eyes turned towards a young Council member with blood red hair. She blushed and ducked her head when she realized that she had spoken aloud.

"Aye, the Eighth." It was Nyphurri who spoke. "I am Nyphurri, daughter of Juwayr and Anidryl, descendant of the eighth member of the original Grimleal Council!" She drew herself up as she spoke. She looked rather lordly right then and there, so lordly that some of the younger Council members indeed thought she was of nobility, although in truth she was nowhere near a lord.

"The Eighth is a joke," hissed Idre darkly. "The Eighth has only ever been more or less the servant of the First."

"And even that no longer holds true, as we have seen," Luthin added meaningfully, raising his eyebrows at Validar. "It barely even surprised me when I heard about her betrayal. The Eighth has always been the least likely of the Council to uphold the values of the Grimleal."

"As it should be," said Validar. "It seems that the Council is forgetting one very important fact: the Eighth is and has always been a spy. Spies are loyal to nobody but themselves. They are not loyal to Plegia, or the Grimleal, or even our Master. Certainly, they _claim_ to be loyal to us, but at the end of the day they would sooner put their life before anyone else's."

"So you admit it!" gasped Maoul, pointing a wrinkly old finger accusingly at Validar. "She would not hesitate to betray us again!"

Validar opened his mouth to speak, but it was not his voice that left his mouth.

"I wish for a chance to speak." Nyphurri stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed.

The room fell deathly silent. Then, in an instant, it was in an uproar.

"I am here for a hearing, dammit!" Nyphurri shouted over the noise, stomping her foot. "I'll be damned if I let you old fools keep talking about me as if I am not here! I am here, Nyphurri has returned, and it is her chance to speak!"

Once more, the room fell silent. Aversa frowned. She had been expecting another uproar from the Elders for being referred to as 'old fools'.

Nyphurri took a deep breath to calm herself. "I understand your anger. I too doubted Lord Validar. I have turned my back on you once already; why not a second time?" She shrugged, and the Council members were not too pleased. "Well, to put it simply, Master Grima would have my head." She smirked wryly. "And let it be known to the Council that I turned my back on them not out of hatred or dismissal. No, I fled from the Grimleal out of shame."

A great mumbling passed through the room like a great wave in the sea, rising and falling in volume.

"Perhaps you have been told that I let the Destined One go free, that I had had a change of heart? Or maybe that was your assumption?" The chatter died down. "No, I was bested by him. Aye, I was bested by a ten year old child! I could not return to the Council! I could not face you all again, so ashamed of myself I was. And surely you would've had my head for losing the one chance I had at capturing Him."

A long moment of silence followed her confession. Nyphurri licked her lips and breathed hard.

At length, Idre spoke up. "We shall speak to Master Grima and hear his thoughts. Only then can we make a decision about what to do with you."

She bowed low. "I thank you for your consideration, my lords, my ladies." She drew herself back to her full height.

"We will need time," Ragul said. "So, for the time being, you may return home. In order to ensure that you do not...act up"–She raised an eyebrow–"I will send a few of our own with you. Bryne, Hevro!" Two young Council members scurried their way forward. One of them didn't look a day over twenty; he must've been one of the youngest, if not the youngest, of the Council. The other was older, closer to his thirties. "Accompany Nyphurri home and watch after her, will you?"

The older one nodded solemnly. "I shall, my Lord Ragul."

The younger one was more excitable. He reminded Nyphurri of a young pup. "With honor, my lord!" He bowed his head.

Nyphurri grit her teeth, resisting the urge to argue. She understand Ragul's reasoning, but it still angered her that she would have to be babysat like some child who couldn't count over ten.

"Very well." Ragul waved them away. "You are dismissed."

* * *

"But you must keep a close eye on her." A man shrouded in a dark cloak strode along the platform of the Dragon's Table. The hood was drawn over his head so that his face was shrouded in darkness. "You will not need to send her away on her mission for another year and a half. In the meantime, you mustn't let her stray far. I do not want her to step even a foot out of Plegia; it would be an ill omen if she were to flee her duty again. Keep her busy, though. You know how restless spies can get.

"Finally, I want you to try your best to reach out to her. Yes, Ragul, that's right. We must try to win over her loyalty. It will make the mission go smoother; for if her allegiance to us is strong and unbreakable, then we have no reason to fear that she will double-cross us." He stopped walking and turned to face the cluster of Grimleal before him. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master Grima," came the resolute replies.

Two red eyes flickered from underneath his hood, and though it was unseen to his followers, he smirked widely.

* * *

 _So I decided to continue this story after all! It was too good an idea not to follow-up. T_ _hank you_ Raffie13035 _for your review!_

 _This is probably one of the quickest updates I've ever done for a story because 1) I'm on winter break and 2) my chapters are usually twice this length. But after this update I will probably be gone for a bit...school begins again on the 11th! :( Woe is me._

 _Since I have obviously strayed a bit from the plot in the game, I'd like to hear your thoughts about this little Grimleal world I've created! Thank you! After the next chapter, my story will intersect more directly with the game's plot, and I don't intend on writing too much more about the Grimleal._


	3. Bound by Destiny

The chamber was dark and cold, the chatter monotonous and repetitive, and Nyphurri wished she were anywhere else.

She had always hated attending Council meetings. Even before she had betrayed the Grimleal, she had rarely ever attended them. The only times she ever did were to report on her findings and missions; when she had to. She avoided the meetings as often as possible because she found them pointless. The conversations would always revolve around Grima and his resurrection and other such nonsense. What was more irritating now was how the Council spoke about Grima as if he was actually _there_ , actually there in the Chamber among them. The fools.

"Lord Ragul's giving you a look," muttered Bryne out the corner of his mouth.

"When isn't he?" she grumbled. Still, she straightened her posture and tried to appear attentive. Ragul had been giving her a rather nasty look indeed.

Nyphurri considered Bryne her ally. Not a friend. Just an ally. She didn't have friends; it was something her profession simply wouldn't allow. In her eyes, a person was either an ally or an enemy. She drew the lines clearly and did not let herself get mixed into the emotional mess that came with friends and so-called lovers.

But she did like Bryne. He was a good man. She had found his excitable personality rather overwhelming at first. However, after he had defended her during an argument with Hevro (the man had insisted that he watch over Nyphurri while she took a bath, since according to Ragul's orders he wasn't to let her out of his sight) she had developed respect for the lad, and a certain fondness for him. He had a childish charm. With wide-eyed innocence he would listen to the tales of her travels.

Ah, yes, her travels. How she missed those days. For ten years she had traveled across different lands, meeting all sorts of people and immersing herself in their unique cultures. Among her favorite places was Chon'sin. It was a nation so different from all the others. It was such a peaceful, beautiful place, filled with rich tradition and cultured people. Battling was an art to them. Deadly were their swords, and graceful were their moves. Nyphurri longed for a chance to set foot in that nation once more.

But, alas, she was doomed an eternity in Plegia. The cursed desert. Under the conditions of her contract, she wasn't to let a single hair fall out of the Plegian boundaries. She thought that it was a rather stupid thing to put in the contract. She had no intentions of deserting or betraying Grimleal another time. For one, she had given Validar her word. Yes, even spies had honor among them. Secondly, even if she _were_ to escape, this time a search party would've been sent after her. Sooner or later the Council would've caught up to her, and this time around, she certainly would've been executed. Oh, yes, Nyphurri had spent quite a lot of time milling everything over, and in the end she decided it would be best for her to stay in Plegia under Validar's employ.

Her contract had also required her to pledge her undying loyalty to the Grimleal and to undergo a re-initiation into the Council. She was certain it hadn't been to test her loyalty. No, it had been done more for the amusement of the Elders. But she hadn't let them get to her, the old bastards. She had endured the searing burn of the fire as it had licked over her naked body, she had endured the ice cold water she had been submerged in, and she had endured the twenty-four hours in solitary confinement. She had undergone the same initiation when she had been but a child. She remembered how she had shivered and sobbed and thrashed about. But now she was a woman, and she had emerged from the darkness victorious. If anything, the re-initiation had made her feel rather triumphant, and despise the Council even more.

At the end of it all, all charges of treason were dropped, and she was a member of the Council once more. It had been a good year and a half since she had been re-initiated, yet this was only the second meeting she had attended. At first, Validar had insisted that she attend the meetings, but after going to the first one she refused thereafter. Today was an exception; it was upon Validar's direct orders she was here. And still she regretted coming. She had not learned a single thing since she had first sat down. No, the Council just kept talking about Grima as if they wished to make love to him.

"…And what say you, Nyphurri?"

She stirred at the sound of her name. Blinking around blearily, she turned her eyes to Idre. It was he who had addressed her.

"I say what my King Validar says," was her smooth reply. She bowed her head. Bryne started to cough violently beside her, and she knew he was covering up his snicker. Validar smirked.

"Ah, but I did not ask for Lord Validar's opinion. I wish to know your thoughts." Idre smile was sickly sweet. Validar chuckled quietly and looked at Nyphurri with amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.

"I am deeply touched, Elder Idre." Again, she bowed her head. "That you should place my thoughts in such high regards is an honor."

"Of course." Still he smiled that sickly sweet smile, yet she could tell his patience was thinning. "You are one of Us, and I highly value your opinions. So, tell us, what do you think?"

Damn him. He knew that she had not been listening. And she thought she'd been doing a good job acting attentive! "Think of what, exactly? Apologies, my Elder, but we've discussed so much tonight that I fear my head is swimming with too many ideas." She chuckled softly.

Idre's smile became more forced, and his blue eyes flashed angrily. "Or is it that you have not been listening to a single word I've said?"

Nyphurri opened her mouth to protest, but Maoul stood up, slamming a fist against the table. Being the youngest of the Elders, he was the fieriest of them all and the easiest to anger.

"I still do not trust her!" he growled, glaring hard at Validar and Nyphurri. "She will betray us the moment she steps out of this land!"

Nyphurri furrowed her eyebrows. "But you ought to have no worries about that." Her tone was bitter, and her expression icy. "My contract keeps me chained to Plegia, does it not?"

Luthin raised an eyebrow. "You have not told her of her mission yet?" he asked Validar incredulously. Nyphurri turned towards the King of Plegia in confusion, her mouth set in a frown.

Validar shrugged most nonchalantly. "I was planning on discussing it here today. That is precisely the reason I have implored our dearest Eighth to join this meeting."

"What is this mission you speak of?" Nyphurri asked, feeling a spark of excitement run through her. From what Maoul had said, it sounded as if she was going to step out of Plegia! Was this finally her chance to be free of the chains that held her captive to her homeland? "Why is that everyone knows of it but me?"

"Because it is a mission of great importance, and I wanted all the details to be set before I told you." Validar smiled as he turned to fully face her. He seemed rather pleased by her excitement. "But the time has come for you to fulfill your Destiny."

Before Nyphurri could further question her lord, she was interrupted angrily by Maoul. "I still do not think it is a good idea, Validar. She has not proved herself worthy."

Nyphurri's eyes flashed angrily and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Her skin was too dark for her blush to show, however. "Not proved myself worthy?! I have proved myself plenty worthy!"

"Hah!" Ragul threw back his head and guffawed. "The only thing you've proved yourself worthy of is a cell in the dungeons!"

Nyphurri made a move to stand, but Validar placed a firm grip on her elbow.

"That is a little harsh, Lord Ragul," Validar reprimanded in that soft yet chilling voice of his. "Nyphurri has indeed proved herself worthy of this task. She has remained loyal to me the moment she agreed to be under my employ, and she has showed her loyalty to this Council by undergoing her re-initiation."

"That only proves she is a coward," spat Maoul. "Nothing more."

"A coward?!" Nyphurri growled indignantly, shaking herself from Validar's grip. "If I am a coward, then you are a handsome young man!"

Bryne had to cover his mouth to hold back his laugh. Maoul's pale cheeks turned a bright red.

"You insolent, disrespectful child! How _dare_ you speak to me in such a way?!"

"I dare because I do not fear!" She bared her teeth. "You still think me a coward?"

"Aye, I do!"

"Enough of this." Validar's tone had turned ice cold, and his black eyebrows were furrowed deeply. "You two are acting like children. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

Nyphurri didn't reply. She breathed heavily, glaring at Maoul. Maoul glared at her in turn, his wrinkly face contorted angrily.

Validar sighed impatiently. "It is not your place to say whether or not Nyphurri is worthy of this mission, Elder Maoul. Master Grima believes her worthy, does he not?" He raised an eyebrow. "You do not doubt our Master Grima, do you?"

Maoul gasped scandalously, and his pale grey eyes turned into the size of orbs. "Never!"

"Then you ought to have no fears or doubts," Validar replied calmly, clearly satisfied by Maoul's response. "Master Grima has asked for Nyphurri specifically."

A sudden silence fell among the Council. The Elders seemed resigned. There was no arguing the word of Grima.

Nyphurri felt a cold chill run along her spine.

"There is no higher honor, my dear," he continued, turning back to her. "You have been Chosen. You are a small but important piece of the puzzle in resurrecting our Master."

All the color drained from her face. She couldn't fake the excitement she knew she ought to have felt. No, it was dread she felt, dread and horror. "Me?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

The Grimleal had always wished to resurrect their Master Grima. The Fell Dragon. After the Destined One had gotten away, though, she had thought that all chances of bringing the Master back were slim to none. Of course, they would _talk_ of bringing Him back, but to _actually_ resurrect Him? It was something Nyphurri did not wish to think of.

And that she would play a part in bringing Him back? The thought made her sick to her stomach.

"Yes, you." Validar smiled, but his eyes were cold and hard. "Are you not pleased?"

"O-of course I am, my lord." She tried her best to smile, but she had trouble biting back the bile rising in her throat. "As you said, there is no higher honor." She bowed her head low, but it was more to avoid his eyes than out of respect.

Validar, of course, sensed her distress. She was not doing a good job of hiding it to begin with, and he had always had an uncanny ability to see through her lies.

"There is no fighting back your Destiny, my darling spy." His voice was soft and gentle; his attempt to soothe her. She could hear the danger in his soft voice, however, and she inwardly cringed.

Validar's long fingertip pushed her chin up so her eyes would meet his. His eyes were black, heartless pits, and his touch was cold. "You tried to run from it before. You succeeded for many years, and I applaud you for that." His smile was one of amusement, like a parent indulging his child. "But in the end, Destiny caught up to you. You cannot outrun Fate."

She was silent. The entire chamber was silent. The air suddenly felt still, as if every man and woman in the chamber was holding his or her breath.

Finally, she broke the silence. "What is my mission?"

* * *

 _Hi all! Thank you_ potatoman098 _and_ Raffie13035 _for your reviews! I know this chapter did not seem to further the plot by much, but it was important to establish the groundwork for later chapters._


	4. Joining the Shepherds

"We should reach the docks by tomorrow afternoon." Robin's face was hidden from view as he held out his map in front of him, stretching his arms wide. It was a bad habit of his to read his map while he walked. Deftly he stepped over a pair of gnarled roots that had threatened to trip him.

"Good." Chrom wasn't as graceful as his friend; an overhanging branch smacked him in the face when he turned. He grunted in dismay. Robin, too absorbed in his map, did not notice the little mishap. "Do you reckon we'll land in Valm by the end of the week?"

"I hope so." Robin began to fold up his outrageously large map. "But I can't say for certain. I'm no master of the seas; who knows how long our journey over the waters will take?"

"Well, it's certainly not happening anytime tonight." Chrom slowed down his pace as he glanced up at the darkening sky. "What do you say to setting up camp for the night?"

Robin grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

Camp was soon set up. Frederick got a warm campfire going while Stahl and Maribelle prepared dinner. There was quiet chatter among the army members. There was much discussion about the imminent battle with Valm. Many questions were directed towards Virion and Cherche. Virion was more than pleased to answer all the questions he could.

"What is Walhart like?" Cordelia asked curiously.

"Alas, my dear lady, that is a question I cannot answer," Virion replied apologetically, shaking his head. "I have yet to meet the Conqueror face-to-face."

"The Conqueror?" Ricken slurped at his soup. His eyes were wide like an innocent child's, staring at Virion raptly. "Is that what he's called?"

"Yes," Cherche answered, her lips curling in disdain. Her tone was bitter. "Though I think the Subjugator would be a more appropriate title."

"The Subjugator!" Virion laughed. "Well said, Cherche, my dear! The dastard deserves no title, though, if you ask me."

"He is not the only one," Cherche replied, a playful smile playing along her features. Virion frowned.

"Now just what that is supposed to mean?"

"Do not fret about it, my lord." Cherche grinned cheekily. "I fear you will hurt your pretty little head if you think too hard on it."

Sully snorted into her stew, and Virion glanced at her sharply. "Pretty little head," she chortled. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Thank you." Cherche smiled, looking rather pleased with herself, and tossed a piece of bread to Minerva. The Wyvern swallowed it eagerly.

"I have no doubt you two will get along just fine," Virion muttered, poking at his rice. "Unfortunately."

"Huh?" Sully raised an eyebrow. "Did ya say something, Ruffles?"

Cherche choked on her water. "Ruffles?"

"Only that I am a lucky man to be in the presence of such lovely ladies," Virion replied to Sully, ignoring Cherche's reaction to his nickname. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and I will be needing my rest." He stood, eagerly wishing to leave the camp before Cherche and Sully could further tease him.

Sully shooed him away. "Yes, yes, go get your beauty sleep."

Virion sent her a mischievous wink, the corner of his lips curving upwards. "Care to join me, my lady?"

Sully's face suddenly turned a bright red. It wasn't clear whether it was out of embarrassment or anger. "I would sooner face an army of Risen than sleep anywhere _near_ you!" she growled, clenching her fists.

"It appears your wish is granted." Everybody turned in surprise to see Gaius skidding to a halt before the campfire. In the glow of the fire, his face turned as orange as his hair. "We're under attack." His lips were set in an uncharacteristic frown.

"WHAT?!" Everybody leapt to their feet, and there was the sound of a dozen plates clattering to the grass.

"You should be more careful for what you wish for next time," Gaius said, smirking at Sully as he unsheathed his sword. "Now, come along, we've no time to lose."

He started towards the direction of the battle.

"And this is precisely why," Cherche sighed as she climbed onto Minerva, "you should never flirt with the ladies, Virion. Only bad things happen."

And she took off from the ground before he could retort.

~x~x~x~

"I'm not sure how I feel about that Dark Mage, my lord," Frederick muttered, watching said mage blast a Risen into smithereens. He threw back his head and let out an ear-splitting cackle. Chrom winced. "There is something very…unsettling about him."

"I'll admit he's a bit…off." Chrom swung his sword around, slicing off the head of the Risen closest to him. "But he's skilled. He is a worthy addition to the army."

Frederick did not appear convinced; he raised an eyebrow dubiously, and his nose was scrunched in disdain. "He's a Plegian," he argued, still watching Henry. "How do we know Validar has not sent him to spy on us?"

Chrom opened his mouth to reply. What came out of his mouth were not words but a cry of pain. Frederick immediately swiveled around on his horse to see an arrow sticking out of Chrom's side.

"Milord!" He started forward, but a sudden blow to his side nearly knocked him off his horse. He cursed and swung his sword down towards the Risen that had attacked him. To his surprise and annoyance, the Risen dodged his attack. It sunk into the ground, turning into a black puddle. It was too dark for Frederick to see where the black puddle was; cautiously, he turned around in a circle, his eyes narrowed into the darkness of the night.

It was a moment too late when he saw the Risen rise from the ground. It was not facing him, but rather Chrom, who was battling an axe-wielding Risen. His back was to the Risen that had arisen from the ground; he had not yet noticed it.

"Lord Chrom!" Frederick galloped frantically towards his lord, praying to dear Naga that he would make it in time. Blood pounded in his ears. He was seized with a sudden fear and panic that threatened to blind him. "Behind you!"

Chrom flung himself down to the ground instinctively, barely avoiding the swing of the Risen from behind. He struggled to get back on his feet. The two Risen advanced, and one of them swung its axe forth–

A figure sprung out of the shadows. There was a glimmer of silver and the sound of weapons clashing. Frederick watched the two Risen become nothing but purple smoke, and he slowed down to a halt, breathing heavily. Quickly, he jumped off his steed and rushed to his lord's side.

Chrom was bewildered, staring wild-eyed at the figure that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He barely registered Frederick's worried hands on his shoulders.

"I'm fine," he found himself saying. "I'm fine, Frederick."

"I'm so sorry, my lord, if I'd realized sooner–" Frederick's voice shook, and his expression was broken. He was scared out of his mind, having feared the worst.

Chrom registered the evident fear in Frederick's voice. He quickly shook himself from his shock. "This is not your fault," he said firmly, meeting his knight's eye. "It's the Risen's fault. Nobody else's." He stood. Suddenly, he winced, his hand going to the wound in his side. The arrow was still embedded in his skin, and blood flowed freely down his torso.

"We need to get you to a healer immediately." Frederick's eyebrows knotted in worry as he steadied his lord.

"Hold a moment," Chrom grunted, straightening up. "I have yet to thank my savior." His deep blue eyes settled on the cloaked figure standing motionless before them. To Frederick's suspicion, the hood was drawn up, covering the person's face. He tightened his grip on Chrom's shoulder.

"No thanks, necessary, Lord Exalt." To both Chrom and Frederick's surprise, the voice was a female's. "As long as your knight promises not to doubt every Plegian within his midst, I will be pleased." There was hint of amusement in her tone. "Especially since this one just saved his lord's life."

She lowered her hood. Frederick was immediately struck by how _dark_ she was. It wasn't so much the color of her skin that took him aback, but her mere aura. Everything she exuded was darkness; it was as if shadows leapt out of her very being. Instantly Frederick was alert, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

"Name yourself," he demanded, his hand straying to the sword on his hilt. Her dark eyes followed the movement, and a glimmer of amusement flickered in them. Then her eyes shifted to Frederick's own brown ones. Her eyes were as dark and deep as the night sky itself. He wouldn't have been surprised to see stars twinkling in them. Her gaze seemed to penetrate into his very being, and Frederick felt as if he was naked before her.

He bristled uncomfortably, tightening his grip on his sword. He clenched his jaw. Though she unsettled him, he refused to show her just how uncomfortable he actually felt; he stared her down fearlessly, brows furrowed deeply.

"My name," she smirked, "is Nyphurri."

* * *

"Milord, I insist–"

"No." Chrom's tone left no room for arguing. His eyebrows were drawn together. "It's only right that Nyphurri gets the same privacy Henry and Lucina had when speaking with Robin and me. My decision is final."

Frederick's shoulders sagged in defeat. He knew there was no changing his lord's mind when he spoke with such authority. "Very well," he sighed, resigned. He quickly perked back up, puffing out his chest. "But I shall be standing nearby lest you need me!"

Chrom pursed his lips. "Actually, I think it would be good for you to keep Lucina company. Surely you wish to acquaint yourself with the future ruler of Ylisse?"

Frederick struggled with himself. Of course he would love to speak with his lord's daughter – not the baby he had left at home, but the young woman from the future – but all the time traveling business made him rather confused and uncomfortable. Besides, as of now, Lucina was going to travel with them. Frederick had plenty of time to chat with her later. He was more concerned with his lord's safety at the moment.

"Yes, of course, but–"

"Frederick." Chrom looked and sounded like a mother scolding her child. He folded his arms across his chest and huffed.

Frederick sighed heavily and bowed his head, in turn acting like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. "Yes, my lord." He sent one last suspicious glance towards the tent before he clambered off. Chrom sighed to himself and shook his head. He turned on his heel and headed into the tent.

Nyphurri sat awaiting him. She glanced up as he walked in, and she smirked slightly. "It appears your knight still has an aversion towards Plegians." Her eyes danced with amusement. "Or is it just me he doesn't trust?"

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Chrom sighed, brushing a hand through his blue hair. "But please don't take it personally. We call him Frederick the Wary for a reason." She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Chrom chuckled quietly. "He takes a while to warm up to people."

She nodded thoughtfully. "And the fact that I'm Plegian makes it even more difficult, I presume?"

"Indeed." Chrom nodded and took a seat beside her. "And also the fact that you came out of nowhere. If I didn't know any better, you dissolved out of the air itself."

She smirked rather cockily. "From your eyes it may have appeared so."

Chrom opened his mouth to speak, but he was distracted by the sound of rustling cloth as somebody brushed aside the tent flap. In walked Robin. He looked on the verge of collapse, so exhausted he was. Yet he still had that twinkle in his eyes and a tired but genuine smile on his face.

Nyphurri stiffened in her chair and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Validar had told her Robin had lost all memories prior to his joining of the Shepherds (how her lord found out about this was beyond her), yet still she feared he would recognize her. If he remembered her, she would surely have to flee for her life.

But when his soft brown eyes met hers, there wasn't a spark of surprise or recognition in them. Neither were they filled with fear and terror like the last time she had looked into them, so many years ago. No, there was only warm welcome.

"You must be Nyphurri." Robin smiled and stuck out his hand. "I'm Robin. I'm the tactician of this army."

Relief flooded through her body and she felt all her muscles relax. She hadn't even realized that she'd been coiled up like a cat ready to pounce. She wanted to laugh at herself for having been so worried and scared. But she kept her composure, smiling warmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Tactician." She shook his hand firmly, and noted that he wore gloves. The Mark was hidden from sight.

It was then that she fully took in his appearance. He had been but a ten year old child when she had last seen him a decade ago. Now he was a young man who stood taller than her. His hair was nearly as white-blonde as his dearest sister's (were they truly unrelated by blood?) but his skin was as pale as a Ylissan's. He was surprisingly ordinary. What struck Nyphurri the most was how he was the polar opposite of his father. Whereas Validar embodied all things dark, it seemed that Robin was all things light. There was a pureness about him, a certain innocence. Perhaps it was because he was unaware of his own Fate.

He laughed. "Please, just call me Robin." He settled down behind the make-shift desk. "I am no lord."

She raised an eyebrow. A humble thing, was he? Again, how very unlike his father. Little did he know of the royalty that flowed through his veins, and of the blood that chained him to Grima. In eyes of the Grimleal, he was practically a God himself.

"Chrom told me what happened earlier," he continued. "Thank you for saving his life." He smiled genuinely.

She waved him off. "As I said to the Lord Exalt earlier, no thanks is necessary."

"No," Chrom interjected. "You saved my life, and I am plenty thankful. Without your help, I would probably not be here right now."

A stretch of silence followed. Robin shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Then, you're welcome." Nyphurri was giving Chrom a rather strange look, as if she had never seen anything quite like him. "How is your wound healing, by the way?" She eyed his ribs.

"Well, thank you for asking." Chrom smiled and glanced down at himself. "Maribelle fixed me right up."

Maribelle, she assumed, was a healer. She nodded. "That's good to hear."

Robin cleared his throat. "So, Nyphurri, tell us how you ended up getting caught in the middle of our battle." He took on a business-like tone that didn't quite fit him. He sounded like a child trying to imitate an adult. Nyphurri hid her amused smile.

"Truth be told, I was curious." She shrugged, unabashed. "I'd heard that the Ylissan Exalt was in town, and I wanted to see if it was true with my own eyes."

"They say curiosity killed the Wyvern, but in our case, it seems that curiosity saved a lord." Robin smiled. "It was lucky you came when you did."

"Indeed," Nyphurri agreed. "I was glad to lend a hand."

"Lend a hand you did!" chuckled Chrom. "Tell me, what is it you do for a living? You've got skills with those daggers!"

Robin seemed especially keen, his gaze on Nyphurri intent.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "I'm afraid my lords will not approve of my profession."

Chrom frowned. "We won't judge you based on your profession."

She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. "I beg to differ."

There was a brief silence. Robin's eyebrows were knotted thoughtfully, and Chrom frowned deeply. Slowly but surely, realization seemed to dawn on Chrom. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"Are all women in your…" He struggled to find the right words; he groped mindlessly in the air. " _Field_ of work such experts with their weapons?"

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression blank. Then the corner of her lips quirked upwards, and she appeared faintly amused. "I don't earn my gold by bedding strangers, if that is what my lord believes."

Chrom flushed crimson. Robin raised his eyebrows at the audacity of Nyphurri's words, but then he threw back his head and laughed.

"I-I'm sorry, I meant no offense," Chrom stuttered quickly. "I just thought…!" He couldn't form his words coherently, so embarrassed he was. He was quite the blubbering fool.

"Don't take his words to heart." Robin's laughter died down, but his eyes still twinkled with humor. "Chrom has always been rather…dense."

"Forgive me," Chrom said at last. He wasn't even offended by Robin's words, knowing them to be true. He hung his head in embarrassment.

Nyphurri laughed. "Of course I shall forgive you," she replied. "I do not get offended so easily."

"So just what is your profession, then?" Robin pressed, leaning over the table.

Nyphurri tried not to smirk triumphantly at his reaction. She knew Robin wanted to hire her badly, and so she had the upper hand. But she feared that he and Chrom would not react positively to her so-called profession (a profession she had, in fact, took up during her self-exile). She had to go about this smartly.

"I'm an assassin-for-hire," she said at last, knowing it was best not to skirt around the issue, as it would only raise more suspicion.

"An assassin-for-hire…?" Robin trailed off. His white brows were furrowed in confusion and his mouth was set in a frown. He didn't quite seem to grasp the concept. Chrom, however, understood at once. He tensed in his chair.

"Aye," Nyphurri replied. She duly took note of Chrom's reaction. "You give me the name of somebody you want dead, and I bring you his head."

Robin's eyes widened in both understanding and horror. Chrom shifted restlessly, his eyes narrowing on the woman.

"So you kill for gold?" Chrom's voice was cold, and he looked at her with ill-disguised contempt.

She, however, refused to be fazed by it. Languidly, she stretched her hands behind her head and shot him a smirk. What did she care for a Ylissan's opinion? "I told you my lords would not approve."

"I simply believe that there are always alternative ways to make a living," Chrom replied stiffly.

The smirk fell off her face, and her expression became stony. "Oh, yes, easy for you say, oh noble prince." She practically spat the words, and her eyes burned alive with anger. Chrom and Robin were shocked at her sudden change in demeanor; they exchanged glances. "Surely you must understand. Surely you, a noble, who has lived his entire life secured in a castle with maids to dress him and cooks to feed him and books to read and gold to play with, surely _you_ must understand." Chrom stared her down hard, his expression unreadable, while Robin seemed worried, looking back and forth between his friend and the Plegian. "Oh, I know what you're going to tell me. It's not all fun and games! You have responsibilities, you take it to the streets to protect the people. And I applaud you for that. You are a far better ruler than Gangrel has ever been to my people.

"But don't you ever think you can understand the life of a peasant. Don't tell me you understand what's like to scavenge for a morsel of food, don't tell me you understand what it's like to be laughed at, to be jeered at and made a fool of, don't you dare tell me you understand what it's like to struggle to _survive_ every day."

She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were still blazing like a fire. She was seated on the very edge of her seat, holding onto her chair so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Robin was eying her sympathetically.

"I'm sorry," Chrom said at length. His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. His eyes were filled with compassion and sympathy and guilt. He bowed his head again. "It seems I still have much to learn about my people if I ever wish to be half a good an Exalt as my sister was."

A brief moment of silence followed. Nyphurri took a moment to calm herself; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, she stared straight in Chrom's deep blue ones.

"I'm not one of your people," she reminded him. Her voice had lost its frostiness, but her eyes were still alight with indignation. "Nonetheless, I thank you."

He nodded. He seemed unable to say much else.

Nyphurri cleared her throat and made to stand. "It seems I've overstayed my visit. I best be off."

Robin leapt out of his chair, nearly knocking it down in the process. "Hold a moment!"

She raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

"Oh no…" Chrom said slowly. "You have that look in your eyes."

He did have a rather strange gleam in his eyes. He grinned mischievously, his eyes alight with excitement. "You say you're an assassin-for-hire…" he said slowly. "What if I wish to hire you?"

"Robin!" Chrom protested.

Nyphurri arched an eyebrow high at Robin, acting dubious. Of course, she was actually ecstatic, but she had to keep that to herself.

"The Shepherds could use another assassin," Robin pointed out, turning to Chrom. "We have a variety of knights – foot, horseback, even Pegasus – mages, warriors and the like, but only _one_ assassin!" He raised his index finger to make his point. "We could use another pair of eyes like hers – like yours, Nyphurri." He returned his attention to her. He was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He reminded her of an overexcited dog, and for a brief second she thought back to Bryne. "We need a person with your set of expertise and skills."

"You're sure of this?" she asked, frowning. "I've never fought in an army before."

"I'm more than certain!" He nodded vigorously. "And that's no problem at all. I barely even knew my own name when I first joined this army." He chuckled at some long distant memory. Chrom smiled too. "You'll learn."

"…What about compensation?"

"I have a contract," he said quickly, flitting over to the far end of the tent. He zoomed back to her side holding a long, rolled-up sheet of parchment. She blinked, surprised by his quickness.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking the contract from his hands. She did a quick look-over of it, noting offhandedly that they paid surprisingly well. She would've taken the job even if they didn't pay her for it, but, again, she could not let them know such a thing. It was nice, though, getting paid by Validar to be on the mission and then getting paid by the people she was double-crossing. She smirked. She hadn't held so much gold in her hands in ages.

"So, what do you say?" Robin asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"I would first like to know what the Lord Exalt has to say." She turned expectantly to Chrom.

He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Robin's the tactician of the army; his word is supreme in this case." He laughed as Robin smiled smugly. "But, if it eases your mind, I would love for you to join us. I promise I shall never judge your character on your profession again."

She nodded slowly. She faced Robin, who was eagerly awaiting her response.

Slowly, she smirked. "Where do I sign?" Robin grinned back at her widely and fluttered about in search of a quill and ink. Soon, her name was penned onto the contract.

Robin beamed and puffed out his chest triumphantly. "Welcome to the Shepherds." He clasped both of his hands over hers and shook it firmly. His eyes were warm and welcoming.

"Welcome," Chrom echoed, planting a hand upon her shoulder.

She smiled at them. "Thank you both. I shan't disappoint you."

 _You trusting fools_ , she wanted to laugh. _You have just sealed your Fates, and so your deaths._

* * *

 _Dun dun dunn! Nyphurri has finally joined the Shepherds! She and Frederick got off to a wonderful start, didn't they? XD It's going to be an interesting journey..._


	5. Placements & Porridge

Like any other morning in Plegia, the air was dry, the grounds bare and brittle, and the sky devoid of a single cloud. It was still very early in the morning, barely past dawn, and all the critters were still asleep. It was relatively quiet and peaceful in the campgrounds, save for the noise of practice swords smacking into one another.

Nyphurri silently studied the two sparring one another. The suspicious knight – Frederick – hit with deadly precision and strength. He was slower than his opponent, but he probably moved faster than he usually did, for he wasn't wearing the ridiculous armor he'd been wearing last night. Nyphurri allowed herself a moment to rove over his physique (only for research purposes, of course) before turning her attention to his counterpart.

The young woman couldn't have been a day over eighteen. She was quick and light on her feet, gliding about in the gravel like a practiced dancer. The child must've been of royalty or riches, because no ordinary fighter wore golden jewelry on her head and clothes sewn from the finest material. She had been taught well, too. There was a fluidity to her movements, unlike the knight's more rigid attacks.

In the end, though, it was the knight who prevailed. It was no surprise, considering that he must've had a good ten years of experience on the woman.

"Very good." Robin smiled and clapped his hands. His voice sounded strangely loud in the silence around them. "You both battled excellently."

The young woman was not entirely convinced; she looked rather frustrated with herself. "You are too kind, Master Robin," she chuckled wearily, shaking her head. She ground the heel of her boot into the gravel, acting rather like a child who'd been told she'd lost the game. "It seems I still have much to learn."

Robin chuckled softly. "We're _all_ still learning." He placed a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder so that she looked up at him. He smiled warmly. "There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, you should be proud of it. You should always try to the best person you can be. And do call me Robin," he added.

"He's right, milady." Frederick's face softened as a smile graced his lips. It lifted the worried lines off his face, making him appear years younger. "Learning is a life-long process. We must constantly strive to improve ourselves."

Nyphurri resisted the urge to snort, but she still rolled her eyes. How cheesy could this get? Since when did these two become wisely scholars spreading their words of wisdom to the ignorant young? Hell, Robin was barely older than the young woman himself!

"I suppose that's one way to think of it," admitted the blue-haired woman, though she still seemed a little upset. "Thank you both." She glanced around and cleared her throat. "Now, if there's nothing else…?"

Robin waved her off. "You're free to go. Thanks for coming out so early in the morning, Lucina, I really appreciate it."

Lucina? The name was vaguely familiar. Nyphurri felt as if she had heard it somewhere. Where had she heard that name before? And what stood out about it?

Lucina smiled and bowed her head before taking her leave. Nyphurri stared after her, scrutinizing her retreating figure. She had never seen that woman before today, yet there was something familiar about her…she reminded her of someone…

"You're free to go too, Frederick. Thanks for helping with placements."

Frederick cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders importantly. "Actually, if it's alright with you, I'd like to stay and watch the others spar." Nyphurri had a feeling the real reason he wanted to stay behind was to ensure that neither herself nor Henry murdered anyone during the knight's absence. The idea was laughable. As if he could stop her from killing someone if she pleased to. Of course, she wouldn't lay a single finger upon Lord Robin, lest she wanted to the face the wrath of the Grimleal.

"You'll be the only Ylissan at an all-Plegian party," laughed Robin. "But sure, you can stay if you want."

Now that was an interesting remark. Nyphurri stared at Robin curiously. If he'd lost all memory of who he was before the Shepherds had taken him in, how did he know he was Plegian? Did somebody tell him what the marks of Grima he wore on the sleeves of his cloak meant? Or did he do some research into the Mark embedded on his hand?

"We should have a party with Plegians only," quipped the Dark Mage with white-blonde hair, raising his index finger. "The crows are invited too, of-caws!" He burst out in a fit of high-pitched giggles. Nyphurri raised an eyebrow, the female Dark Mage rolled her eyes, and both Frederick and Robin cringed.

The male Dark Mage, along with the young woman Lucina, had also been recruited into the army last night. With three new recruits and a busy day ahead of them, Robin had decided to have placements for them this morning. Essentially, he wanted to assess what they were capable of so he could properly place them in the battlefield.

The two mages walked off a distance and flipped open their tomes. The air soon began to tingle with dark magic. Tomes lit up, flashes of purple and black flew every which way, and the wind tangled everyone's hair. Tharja was more strategic about her spells, maneuvering her way around attacks. Henry, on the other hand, had a lot of force behind his attacks and was downright careless in executing them.

While Nyphurri was watching the spar, assessing each mage's skills, she could feel Frederick's gaze burning into the side of her face. With a sigh, she turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. She could sense his surprise of getting caught staring. Instead of looking away and acting chaste like he should've, however, his eyes latched onto hers. This was a man who was not afraid to back down from a fight. She mentally filed that away for later.

"It's rude to stare, you know."

His cheeks flushed red and he bristled indignantly. Nyphurri wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or irritation, but she smirked nonetheless. Score one for Nyphurri, zero for the knight.

"I wasn't staring," he huffed, straightening his posture. "Merely observing."

"Shouldn't you be _observing_ the spar?" she countered, nodding towards the two mages. Frederick scowled and opened his mouth to retort, but it wasn't his voice that left his lips.

"Nah, I'd much rather observe you."

A man with bright orange hair popped up beside Frederick. His eyes were on Nyphurri, his lips quirked in a mischievous grin. She raised an eyebrow at him. Frederick, who had not heard the man's approach, jumped in surprise and cursed. Nyphurri inwardly snickered at his reaction.

"You're a lot more interesting than the spar," the man continued, ignoring Frederick's scolding ("How many times do I have to tell you to stop sneaking up on people?!"). Nyphurri only had to take one glance at him to know he was the other assassin in the army Robin had spoken of earlier. "A better view, too." His grin widened, and her raised eyebrow only arched higher. Frederick sighed and shook his head, mumbling something underneath his breath.

"And you are?" she asked coolly, her expression stoic. She didn't want to come off as too rude to a comrade she'd just met, but she also needed to establish that what he was saying wasn't okay with her.

He stepped forward, his lips still quirked in that roguish grin. "I'm—"

"Late," Robin cut in, joining the trio. It appeared that Tharja and Henry had finished sparring; they were heading back to camp (was that smoke coming out of Tharja's head?). "I told you to be here at the crack of dawn, Gaius. Not the crack of noon." Frederick nodded vigorously in agreement.

The man named Gaius waved at Robin dismissively. "Quit over-exaggerating. I made it right on time."

"Barely," Robin pointed out. "If you'd arrived any later, you would've kept us all waiting!" He folded his arms across his chest and frowned. "We're on a tight schedule, you know!" It appeared that Robin ran a tight ship, and Nyphurri appreciated his professionalism.

Gaius raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry I came late." He didn't sound or seem sorry, though. Mischief twinkled in his eyes. "If you'd told me ahead of time how pretty my sparring partner is, I might've come sooner." His eyes flickered to Nyphurri and he grinned roguishly at her. Robin raised his eyebrows in surprise and Frederick rolled his eyes.

"I wish I could say the same about my sparring partner," she retorted softly, her lips quirking up into a smirk. Gaius's grin was quickly replaced by a pout. Robin snickered and even Frederick was having trouble holding back his laugh.

She was only teasing, of course; the man was actually rather handsome. She wasn't going to contribute to his ego any further, however, as it seemed large enough already. "But enough chatter. We're here to spar, are we not?"

"Straight to business, eh?" Gaius grinned and fished a lollipop – a lollipop?! – from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. "You're gonna get along with Bubbles just fine, that's for sure."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," frowned Robin. Gaius only grinned in response.

Nyphurri was quickly tiring of his nonchalant attitude. First he showed up late to practice, then he flirted with her, and now he was sucking on a piece of candy? She was unaccustomed to his unprofessional behavior, and it irritated her. She would show him a professional assassin handled herself.

"Practice weapons if you please, Lord Robin," she said calmly as she shed herself of her cloak. Gaius raised his eyebrows at the motion. She couldn't help but smirk slightly. She knew he'd recognized the challenge she'd just sent him.

"It's Robin," he reminded her with a smile. "And I assume a sword will do for you?"

She turned to him with a crease in her brows. "You have no practice daggers?"

This time it was Robin who frowned. "I'm afraid not. Nobody in the army has ever had the need for practice daggers."

She arched an eyebrow and looked back at Gaius. "You don't use daggers?" she scoffed. "And you call yourself an assassin?" Her tone was condescending, and she looked at him as if he was a disgrace to her profession.

Gaius shrugged, rolling his lollipop to his other cheek. Again, his nonchalant attitude struck a chord with her; she flexed her gloved hand. "I prefer swords. Never really got the hang of daggers. They're more work than they're worth, if you ask me."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up in understanding. "Ah," she said softly as realization dawned on her. "You weren't recruited to this army as a professional assassin, were you?" No assassin-for-hire would ever use a sword to carry out his work. Swords were far too large to carry around; they were unpractical. Daggers, on the other hand, were far more versatile. You could carry many of them on your person in various places, allowing plenty of flexibility for your movements. Oftentimes you would jump your target from behind and, before they even knew what hit them, slit their throat.

She saw something flash in his eyes, and she knew there was more to him than appeared on the surface. "No, I was a thief. Still am, really," he corrected with a shrug. He picked up a practice sword. "Assassin is the class name Robin has assigned me; nothing more."

"I see," she said quietly. Even the thief was giving her a hard time about her profession. He didn't say it, of course, but she caught the undercurrent in his tone. He did not want to be associated as an assassin-for-hire. "A noble thief, then." She smirked wryly.

He said nothing. His jaw tightened, and there was a loud crunching noise as the lollipop shattered in his mouth. Frederick silently looked back and forth between the two assassins. Nyphurri could taste the tension that was generating between them.

Robin cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you think you could use a practice sword instead, Nyphurri? I'm afraid we haven't much a choice."

"No, let her use her daggers," Gaius said coolly before she could reply. He flicked away the remaining stick of his lollipop. "I wouldn't want an unfair advantage over our latest recruit." His tone became teasing and humor flickered in his eyes. He was acting as if he'd never been upset to begin with. She glared at him.

"Not an option," Frederick said sharply. "You could get seriously hurt. Or worse."

Nyphurri raised an eyebrow at the knight. As if he hadn't just made it completely obvious he didn't trust her. "I assure you, Sir Frederick, if I _were_ to use my daggers, Master Gaius would remain unharmed by the end of our spar. Surely his pride would be damaged, though."

Gaius scoffed.

"How can you be so sure?" demanded Frederick. "You could cause serious injury if you were to strike him accidentally."

"Precisely my point." She smirked cockily. "I don't make mistakes." Frederick raised an eyebrow at her confidence. "He would only be dead by my hand if I intentionally made it so."

She didn't mean to make it sound like a threat, but it seemed that Robin and Frederick thought that it sounded like one. Robin raised his eyebrows. Frederick was alert at once, his hand moving to the sword on his hip. Nyphurri's eyes followed the movement, amusement flickering in her expression.

"As it were, Master Gaius is now my comrade, and I have no wish to harm him." Frederick seemed doubtful and Robin uneasy. "Unless, that is, he makes further advances on me. Then I'm afraid I can't promise anything." Frederick and Robin certainly weren't expecting her remark; Robin laughed in surprise and Frederick raised his eyebrows. Nyphurri sent a challenging smirk at the other assassin. He raised his eyebrows at her audacity. His expression of surprise was quickly replaced by devious amusement.

"Can't promise anything myself, cupcake," he said in that offhanded flirtatious manner of his. Taking the practice sword Robin offered her, Nyphurri made her way to where Tharja and Henry had been sparring earlier. Gaius followed suit. They slowly began to circle each other, a practice sword in each of their hands. The sword felt awkward in Nyphurri's hand. If she wasn't so prideful, she may have taken Gaius up on his offer and used her daggers instead. As it were, she refused to stand down from his challenge and stubbornly held onto the sword. "I wanna find out if you're just as sweet as you are sour." He grinned.

She wondered if he was only talking about her personality or if he was insinuating something more. Still they circled each other ever so patiently. Rarely did a thief or assassin make the first strike. If they had it their way, they would be circling each other until sundown. "You'll only end up disappointed."

"We're here for a spar, not a date!" Frederick shouted at them impatiently. Robin stood exasperated beside him.

Gaius laughed and shouted over his shoulder, "Are yah jealous, General?"

Frederick scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I have nothing to be jealous of!"

Nyphurri took advantage of Gaius's momentary distraction. Silently she dashed through the gravel, swinging her sword down towards him. Gaius anticipated her attack and raised his sword to meet hers.

"Not so fast, cupcake." He grinned at her cheekily. Growling wordlessly, she stepped back and lashed her sword out again. Swords weren't as easy to control as daggers, and so her aim wasn't as precise as it normally would've been (much to her annoyance and aggravation). Gaius easily dodged the attack. He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I thought you said you were a professional."

Now she was really starting to get annoyed. She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her sword. This time she stayed her ground, waiting for him to make his move.

"I could say the same for you," she retorted, watching him watching her. "I thought you were a professional assassin, not a professional pest."

He laughed. "I'm both." Then he jumped forth and swung his sword down towards her. Ready to end the game and wipe that smirk off his face, she ran forward at the same time. Just as they were about to collide swords, she swerved at the last second, simultaneously kicking up some gravel into Gaius's face. She raised her sword to his neck just as he was twirling around to block her attack.

She smirked winningly at him. "Looks like I win, _cupcake_."

He quirked an eyebrow at the name, surprised by her audacity to use the nickname he'd given her. Then his lips slowly curved into a mischievous smirk. "You won this round," he said in a tone that let her know he wasn't quite done with her, "but we'll see about next time."

Her smirk only widened. "Challenge accepted."

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

The camp was alive when they returned from placements. The majority of the army seemed awake now, eating their breakfast and chatting with one another. There were some who still appeared half-asleep. One knight in green armor munching on an apple had an exceptional head of bed hair. Nyphurri couldn't help but smile at the sight.

This would be her first interaction with the army. Although she had (somewhat) gained Robin and Chrom's trust, she still had to gain the trust of her new comrades. First impressions were important, she knew, but that didn't mean she was going to gallop up to each person and introduce herself. That wasn't how she conducted herself. No, she was going to hide in the background for the most part, like she would in any situation, and speak here and there. That was who she was. She wouldn't put up a façade of her personality from day one, because then she would have to act like a bubbly idiot for the rest of her time here. No, she was going to be as honest and upfront to these people as she could be (with the exception of the whole double agent ordeal, of course). That way she wouldn't have to keep track of all the stories and lies she'd come up with. And it would also make it easier for them to trust her. After all, what sort of Plegian spy would admit to being Plegian and an assassin? She was playing reverse psychology at its finest.

"Good morning!" Chrom said brightly, approaching the group. He seemed refreshed and awake. "How did placements go?"

"Great," Robin replied, smiling. "Nyphurri best Gaius." He grinned and nudged Gaius playfully, knowing he would get worked up.

Gaius scoffed and Nyphurri grinned. "More like put him in his place," she piped up, unable to help herself. She had certainly showed the man not to flirt with her anymore. Robin laughed and Frederick's lips twitched.

Chrom raised his eyebrows in surprise, not expecting such a witty reply from her. Then he threw back his head and laughed, clamping a hand on Gaius's shoulder sympathetically. The orange-haired man scowled. "Seems like Nyphurri taught you a lesson the hard way, Gaius."

"Oh, shut up, Blue," Gaius grumbled, shaking Chrom's hand off his shoulder. "I'm gonna go grab some breakfast." He made to leave, and Nyphurri had to rub her victory in his face one last time.

"That lollipop wasn't enough for you?" she teased.

He paused. "No, but I could use a cupcake right about now." He grinned suggestively at her. Only taking a second to see her amused expression shatter into one of shock and anger, he dashed off laughing. Frederick sighed and shook his head as Nyphurri folded her arms across her chest and fumed.

Chrom was confused, not understanding the reference. "Do you not like cupcakes or something?" Frederick and Robin exchanged looks.

"No, it's just…" She shook her head, not ready to explain everything. "Never mind." She paused. "I am hungry, though."

"Oh, of course!" He turned around and pointed towards the center of the camp where a large pot was sitting over a fire. "I hope you like porridge, because that's what you'll be eating for the next couple of months!"

"Sounds good to me," Nyphurri replied, never having been a picky eater. She excused herself. She half-expected Frederick to accompany her, not trusting to leave her alone for even a minute, but the knight stayed put with the lord and tactician. Probably to talk about her. No matter.

She had barely taken a few steps into the campsite when she was greeted by one of the army members. She had blonde pigtails and a smile as bright as the sun.

"Hi!" She bounced in front of Nyphurri. "You must be Nyphurri! I'm Lissa. Welcome to the Shepherds!"

Nyphurri blinked at her, unaccustomed to being greeted so brightly. It took her a moment to compose herself. "Hello." She smiled slightly. "Thank you for the warm welcome, Lady Lissa." She paused, scrutinizing her. "You are _the_ Lady Lissa, princess of Ylisse, are you not?" Although she was dressed for war, it was still clear by the pearliness of her skin that she was accustomed to sleeping in a castle and not the grass.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, waving her remark off like it was no big deal. "But you can just call me Lissa."

Nyphurri was quickly noticing a trend among the nobles. Such humble creatures trying to treat their comrades as "equals." She felt like laughing at their naivety.

"A pleasure to meet you." She glanced impatiently towards the pot of porridge waiting for her. She hadn't eaten since last night, and she was understandably hungry after her spar. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really need to get some food in my system."

"Oh! Sorry!" She stepped out of the way. "You should actually hurry before it runs out!" She smiled that bright smile, and Nyphurri was again reminded of Bryne's youthful energy. It was going to take her a while to adjust to the energy of her comrades, since the majority of them were younger than her. As a matter of a fact, she'd yet to see anyone older than her. It seemed that she and Frederick were the veterans of the group. Of course, armies usually consisted of younger folk, but she'd expected a seasoned veteran or two to be in the mix. They were the ones who were able to reign in the energies of the young pups.

Nyphurri smiled back at Lissa. She moved past her and headed towards the pot. Peering down into it, she was relieved that there were still a few servings left. She grinned and scooped a large spoonful into her bowl. She would've liked to take more, but she knew that Frederick and Robin still had to eat too.

She seated herself in the grass, distancing herself from the others. She took a bite of her food. It was flavorless, but still warm and filling.

"I know it doesn't taste like much." She looked up to see the green-armored man with the bedhead approach her. He wore an easygoing smile. He seated himself beside her. "But it's the best we got." His smile was very welcoming. Relaxing, even. Although she still had her defenses up, she had a feeling she would like him.

She smiled. "It tastes great," she assured him, though in fact it had no flavor at all. "Are you the cook?"

"Today I am," he laughed. "We take turns cooking." When she eyed him questioningly, he explained, "It's only fair."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid when it comes to my turn everyone's dinner is going to end up burned."

He laughed again. He had a very soft and gentle laugh. "Oh, I'm sure it won't! If you need any help, don't be afraid to ask. I'd be happy to help." He smiled at her. Nyphurri glanced away. She was touched that he would make such an offer, considering they had just met. Rarely had anyone shown her such kindness.

He thought she was uncomfortable for another reason. "Oh, yeesh, I haven't even introduced myself!" He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm Stahl."

She smiled at him. She already found the lad rather endearing. "Nice to meet you, Stahl." She extended a hand towards him. "I'm Nyphurri."

"Nice to meet you too." He shook her hand. His hand was surprisingly soft for a soldier. A moment of silence passed while Nyphurri ate her porridge. She had never been one for striking conversations. "So rumor has it Robin's hired an assassin," Stahl began. He grinned. "Would that be you?"

"No, I'm obviously a Pegasus Knight," she joked, gesturing to her attire. He chuckled. "No, I couldn't do that; I hate animals." She crinkled her nose at the thought. "Aye, I'm an assassin. Seems that we're rare among these parts," she added, referring to the army's lack of assassins.

"Yeah, you and Gaius are the only two," Stahl agreed. "But it was only him up until now, so at least we have another pair of hands to help out!"

Nyphurri would've replied if she hadn't been distracted by somebody taking a sharp intake of breath. She turned to see a man dressed in the traditional garb of the Chon'sin – a Chon'sin man, she realized with an excited jolt. He was staring at her like he couldn't believe his eyes. As a matter of fact, he rubbed his eyes a couple times as if making sure he was seeing right.

Nyphurri raised an eyebrow. What, was he upset there wasn't much porridge left?

Stahl seemed concerned. "Are you alright, Lon'qu?"

Lon'qu didn't reply. Instead, he kept staring at Nyphurri as if he'd never seen anything like her. She was quickly getting annoyed.

"It's rude to stare," she admonished, just like she had admonished Frederick earlier. What was it with these men?

That shook him from his reverie. His cheeks turned a rosy pink. Wordlessly, he strode up to Nyphurri, his expression unreadable. Nyphurri stayed her ground, though she was already thinking of ways to take him down if need be. He was acting strange, and she didn't trust him for a second.

"I need to talk with you," he hissed lowly, glancing around himself, looking worried that somebody would overhear. He stared pointedly at Stahl. "In private." Stahl raised his eyebrows and glanced at Nyphurri.

Nyphurri had faced far worse than a seemingly-psychotic Chon'sin. She wasn't worried about what it was he needed to 'talk' with her about. Nonetheless, she discreetly felt around for the dagger on her hip.

"Alright," she said, taking one last bite of her porridge. "Let's talk."

* * *

 _Yeah, I know it's been a while since I've updated. I've had a case of writer's block for this chapter. I kept writing different ideas but none of them really clicked with me...until I came up with this chapter. Nyphurri's finally getting her first interaction with the Shepherds. What did you think of their interactions? I'd love to hear your feedback. And as you all will soon be able to tell (if you couldn't tell already), Gaius and Stahl are my favorite characters (Gaius being my most favorite - I just love that guy). You'll probably be seeing a lot of them in the future! And don't worry, I'll bring in more of Frederick next chapter._


	6. An Old Acquantince

~ ** _Six years ago_** ~

He'd seen her lurking around these parts before. She was hard to miss; she didn't exactly blend in with the crowd. She was always garbed in a dark cloak, the hood covering her head. Once or twice Lon'qu had caught the glimmer of daggers on her hips. If he didn't know any better, the woman was some sort of bounty hunter or assassin. He had no idea what someone with such a distasteful profession would be doing in Chon'sin. He doubted she got many customers. Chon'sin people were far too prideful to hire an assassin to do their dirty work. But Lon'qu supposed there was always one or two in the mix who were too cowardly to finish the job themselves.

Whenever she passed by him and the other children on the streets, she would stare unnervingly at them. He would tense whenever she was in the premises, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he stood protectively in front of the other children. Every time he did this, her eyes would land on his. Her black eyes were cold and calculating, and they made him feel uneasy. He was always grateful that she never stopped or spoke to him or the other children.

That was, until today.

Instead of walking past them like she normally did, she turned and began to slowly walk towards them. He could see her eyes from beneath her hood, and they were trained on his. She looked rather like Death coming to take him away. Vaguely he wondered how she wasn't sweltering in the heat underneath her cloak.

He could feel the hairs on his arms stand on end. He clenched his jaw and stood his ground, staring her down as she made her approach. The other children noticed her and began to whisper fearfully to one another, backing away and huddling close to each other.

She raised a hand, and although it was empty, Lon'qu's hand darted to the sword on his hip. It was a second later he realized that she had raised her hand to lower her hood. Judging by the small smile forming at the corner of her lips, she was amused by his reaction. Trying not to show how foolish he felt, he kept his hand on sword. A warning to her and a sense of protection for him.

She stopped a good few feet in front of him, perhaps giving him space in order to appear less threatening. Still he kept his hand on his sword, though he didn't draw it.

"You," she said. It was the first time he had seen her with her hood down. He was surprised to see that her face was not marred by scars. He'd thought that bounty hunters were covered in scars. "You're the leader around here, are you not?" Having never been outside of Chon'sin, he found it hard to place her accent. Foreigners were rare, and even more rare around the areas he lived.

"I am no leader," he replied stiffly, still wary of her intentions. She raised her eyebrows slightly, and her smile grew wider. She was amused again. He didn't understand why she was amused, and it only irritated him. She glanced around appraisingly at the bare-footed children dressed in their rags.

"Really? It seems to me that you are."

He was tiring of whatever game she was playing at. He knew she wanted something from him, he just didn't know what. "What is it to you who I am?" he growled. "What do you want?"

The smile on her face faltered. She was silent for a moment before, wordlessly, she put a hand in the pocket of her cloak. This time Lon'qu drew his sword, and the children around him cried out in fear.

The woman glanced at Lon'qu's sword. She seemed vaguely surprised, but unconcerned. In fact, there even seemed to be a flicker of amusement in her dark eyes. Lon'qu could not understand this woman's sense of humor. Did she not realize she was in danger?

When she drew her hand out of her pocket, she wasn't holding a weapon. A large pouch swung in her hand instead. She tossed it to him. It landed by his feet with a deep thud and a…jingle? He hesitated, glancing down at it for a second before back at her.

"Open it." Her expression was unreadable.

He hesitated again, glancing down at the pouch once more.

"Go on," she urged.

He looked at her again. He still had no idea if her intentions were good or bad – it was too hard to read her. Yet when he stared into her eyes, he saw that they were no longer the depthless black he had stared into before. No, there was something flickering in them now. In fact, it seemed to him that she was smiling at him with her eyes.

' _Trust me_ ,' they said. Though Lon'qu had no intentions of trusting a stranger – let alone an assassin or spy or whatever she was – his gut was telling him to. And so, with his eyes still on hers, he bent down and picked up the pouch. It was even heavier than he thought it would be. It felt like it was filled with…coins. But it couldn't possibly be…

A sudden sense of curiosity and apprehension overwhelmed him. Lon'qu had often been one to keep his composure, but he lost it now. He ripped open the pouch like a starving man, hoping but still not believing what was inside. He nearly dropped it when he saw the contents. He gasped and his sword fell out of his hands, clanging down to the ground.

The bag was filled to the brim with dozens upon dozens of gold coins – there had to be at least one hundred in here! When he glanced back at the woman, she was smiling at him. Her smile was surprisingly gentle, softening her sharp features.

"Wha…?" He was truly at a loss of words. His head was spinning, his thoughts flying a million directions, and his hands were starting to hurt from the weight of the gold. The younger children, having caught a glimpse inside the pouch, all crowded around the pouch. Lon'qu doubted any of them had seen so much gold before in their lives. He knew he certainly hadn't.

The woman took a few steps forward now, perhaps thinking she had gained his confidence. "I'll give you that entire bag," she said, "in exchange for a favor."

Lon'qu's face immediately fell. His grip on the bag tightened involuntarily. There was always a catch. He'd been so foolish to think there wasn't.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he asked stiffly, "What kind of favor?" He wasn't sure what he would say until he knew what exactly she wanted from him. His pride may stand in his way, or perhaps he would be willing to do the favor in exchange for such a large amount of gold. It all depended on what she asked of him.

She paused, glancing around at the children that surrounded him. She silently beckoned Lon'qu forward. He hesitated a moment. Then, still holding the gold, he made his way towards her, telling the others to wait for him.

"I want you to promise me something," the woman said quietly, turning around so that her back faced the children. Now that he was up close to her, he could see that her hair was actually a dark purple, not the black he had thought it was. "I want you to promise me that you'll keep looking after these kids. But if you have the chance to get out of here, you get out." She spoke with no compassion in her voice; she was speaking to him as if she was a General giving him orders. "Divide out the gold to the other children. Put someone else in charge. But I want you to get out of here." She paused, staring long and hard at him. Lon'qu thought he saw a glimmer of sympathy in the depths of her black eyes. "Can you promise me that?"

He stared at her for a long moment. He didn't know if this was some sort of trick, or if she was being genuine. If she _was_ being serious, she must've had a screw loose, for no one in her right mind would offer him so much gold in exchange for such a simply promise. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw something flicker in there that he had never seen before from anyone: compassion.

He looked down at the heavy pouch in his hands, then back at the children who stood waiting for him, craning their necks to try to see what was going on. Then he returned his attention to the woman beside him.

Quietly, he replied, "I promise."

~ ** _Present_** ~

Lon'qu still remembered that faithful day as if it were yesterday. Exactly a week later he had left the slums – though that had been out of shame for Ke'ri's death, not necessarily because the foreign woman had told him to leave. But he had done as he had promised. He divided up the gold with the children, left the oldest one in charge, and fled to Regna Ferox with nothing but the clothes on his back, his sword, and a handful of coins. Without that handful of coins, he probably would've starved to death. It was thanks to her he lived and breathed today.

And here she was now, looking just like he had remembered her. Time had, of course, aged her. Lon'qu too had changed over the years. Whereas he had been a teenager when he had encountered her, he was now a young man. She hadn't changed as much as he had, obviously, since she had already been an adult when they first met. Her eyes remained unchanged. They were still as black and calculating as they'd been six years ago. They were narrowed slightly at him in scrutiny.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the moment. Then he said something to her he'd been preparing ever since he had left the slums.

"I kept my promise."

He expected her to smile, to speak, to show some kind of recognition. But instead her brows creased in confusion and her lips slipped into a frown. A wave of disappointment washed over Lon'qu. She didn't remember? "What?"

"You don't remember me." It was more of a statement than a question. There was no hiding the disappointment in Lon'qu's voice. His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head in defeat. This only served to further confuse her.

"Should I?" She was eying him up and down, as if scrutinizing him further would refresh her memory.

He sighed softly. This hadn't exactly been how he had expected their reunion to go. But he supposed he was foolish to think that she would've remembered. It may have only been a passing moment for her, yet it had been a life-changing one for him. "We've only met once before, in Chon'sin." When she still didn't appear to understand, he reminded her, "You helped me out of the slums."

It took her a minute. Slowly but surely recognition dawned on her face. She shook her head and did a double take, looking at him with renewed eyes. "By the Gods…" she muttered. Lon'qu, having been around Plegians now, recognized her accent. After overcoming her initial shock, she finally smiled. "You've grown," she said softly. Was that pride glowing in her eyes?

Excited that she remembered him, he smiled back. "As have you."

The smile slipped off her face. "Excuse me?"

He quickly realized his blunder. "Wh-what I mean to say is, you've grown older." She raised an eyebrow. Lon'qu's face was quickly turning a deep shade of scarlet. "It's been many years!" he spluttered. "That's all I'm trying to say!"

Her expression softened. Then, to his surprise and relief, she laughed. "Aye, many years it's been, indeed," she agreed. "You've come a long way since last I saw you."

He bowed his head. "Thanks to you."

She shook her head. "My gold may have helped you, but _you_ were the one who got yourself out of there." She smiled. "If I may say so, you seem to be doing rather well for yourself – it's quite prestigious to fight under the Lord Exalt of Ylisse."

"Thank you," he replied genuinely, finding himself smiling. Even though she was a woman, he found that he was completely comfortable around her. She was, after all, his savior, and he had known her before his fear of women developed. The last time he could speak so freely with a woman was with Ke'ri...

Feeling his thoughts take a turn for the worse, he shook his head and cleared his throat. Now was not the time. "If I may ask, what is it you're doing here?"

"Haven't you heard the news?" she questioned, smirking slightly. "A new assassin has joined your army."

So he'd been right all along – she was an assassin. It made sense why she had had so much gold to offer him. It made him feel a little uneasy to think he had accepted and used her gold, her blood money. Other Chon'sin people would cringe to hear that he had accepted such filth. But no, it was not Lon'qu's place to judge her and her profession. It was she who had helped him out of the slums, it was she who had offered him money and hope. Everyone else? All the other prideful Chon'sin? They had walked past Lon'qu and the other children living on the streets for years, not even giving them a second glance. She had been one of the few to approach them and offer help. He was forever grateful for all she had done for them. Whether or not she was an assassin mattered not to him. All that mattered was that she was a good person – and that was enough for him.

He chuckled and shook his head. "This is so strange! I hadn't expected to ever see you again, let alone be your comrade."

"Fate has a strange sense of humor," she agreed. "I, of all people, can attest to that." Her expression darkened for a second before returning to her smile. "It seems like you and I are going to be fighting side by side for the time being." Her smile became a smirk. "I'd like to see just how much my gold has helped you."

Lon'qu grinned. "I look forward to it."


	7. Tides A-Turning

Nyphurri had lived in the shadows her entire life.

She'd always lingered in the background, flitting from one dark corner to another. It was required of her professions - both as a spy and an assassin-for-hire - to remain out of sight. During her early life, when she'd worked for the Grimleal before her desertion, she'd been in charge of spying for the Grimleal Council. She would spy on Ylisse or other nations, on her own Plegian kin (keeping an eye out for rebels and other "non-believers"), and even on the King of Plegia. Then she would report back these findings to the Council. And that was that. It was not her part to partake in dissecting the information; she only collected it.

As an assassin-for-hire, she did her work during the night. Sure, depending on the client and target, she may watch the target for a few weeks (in broad daylight and during the night) before she made her move. But even then she would move in for the kill after the sun had gone down. It was easier for her to lurk in the shadows and then jump the target unawares, slitting his throat before he even realized what'd happened.

Accustomed to working in the dark, she was in for quite the surprise during her first battle in the army.

Nyphurri grunted as she twisted her dagger in the myrmidon's chest. Blood - whose blood it was, she wasn't even sure - along with a mixture of grime and sweat was clinging to her skin uncomfortably. The sun beat down on her overhead, almost making her regret the black clothes she wore. The sounds of battle resonated all around her. Shrieks of pain, clanging of weapons, shouts and orders from the tactician. All the while the ship she stood on swayed beneath her feet and the ocean moaned around her. The air smelled like a mixture of salt water and blood.

"Finally," she murmured to herself when the myrmidon's body went slack. "Bastard took too long to kill." She pulled her dagger out of the lifeless body and wiped the blood off on the back of his shirt.

She officially hated fighting in an army. It was simply beneath her. Too messy, too time-consuming, too risky. There was no element of surprise she so often used to her advantage whenever she completed a job. No, she was out in the open, completely vulnerable to attacks from all directions. To top it all off she had to be paired with that damn Ylissan knight! He'd been giving her the stink-eye throughout the entire battle.

She found it highly unlikely that Robin had paired the two of them up for tactical purposes. She was more than certain that Frederick had specifically requested that he be her partner so that he could keep an eye on her during the battle. He probably thought that, without his watchful eye, she'd either go off and kill his comrades or have a secret rendezvous with the enemy. As if she would be so careless!

Despite the fact that they were paired together, they fought as two separate units. She'd noted during the battle that they were the exception; most of the others who'd been paired together fought side-by-side, supporting each other. She was grateful that Frederick did not treat her as such. She was completely capable of herself. She needed no help, let alone from a Ylissan.

She'd done a good job of ignoring him up until now, speaking with him only when it was necessary. But after her particularly difficult battle with the myrmidon, she was irritated and it only further aggravated her when she noticed Frederick glaring at her.

"Anything you wish to say to me, Sir Frederick?" she called out to him over her shoulder. She wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "You've been eying me all afternoon."

He bristled and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his brown locks clung to his cheeks. He wasn't on his steed today, since Robin had decided that the ships would be too crowded with the horses. Besides, the ships were too unstable for the horses; it only made them antsy.

Nyphurri knew he recognized the discreet warning she had sent him. She was letting him know that she was aware he was watching her, and she knew it wasn't because he cared oh so deeply for his comrade's safety.

He quickly gathered his composure. "I don't know what you mean," he huffed, feigning confusion. "I was simply doing my duty as a partner to watch after you."

She laughed softly. Did he really think her for a fool? She didn't know whether to be amused or insulted. "You're a terrible liar."

She appeared to have struck a nerve; his expression turned sour. He scowled and bitingly replied, "We're not all blessed with that talent." Despite the sting of his words and the accusation, he did not appear to regret what he said. In fact, it seemed to make him feel even more certain of himself. He raised his chin and stared defiantly down at her.

The laughter died in her throat. She arched an eyebrow high. It was a risk he'd taken, accusing her of lying out in the open. He might as well have stated that he thought she was a spy. It was a big accusation to make (and a correct accusation, actually) that she was not going to let slide. Wordlessly, she stepped towards him, closing the gap in between them.

"It sounds to me that you're calling me a liar," she said quietly.

"I am indeed." His voice was steely and firm. There was a glint in his eyes that told her he was not going to back down.

She crinkled her brows in confusion, frowning. "And what have I done to deserve such an accusation?" She already knew the answer, of course. She was a Plegian assassin. That was enough reason for him to doubt her. Still, she thought that saving his lord's life would've given her a few points in his book. The knight really must've been a different brand of cautious.

For a moment he appeared like he was going to answer her, but then thought better of it. "The battle place is no place for discussions," he said abruptly, turning his back on her. "We must get a move on."

His audacity both shocked and angered her. How _dare_ he drop the conversation and turn his back on her?! So much for a knight's courtesy! "Now you wait just a second…!"

"Frederick! Nyphurri!"

They both stopped and looked up to see a woman with long pink hair and a man with teal hair mounted on a Wyvern. They steadily descended from the sky to land by Frederick's side. Nyphurri grimaced, eying the Wyvern warily. It blinked its orange eyes at her and breathed heavily through its nose. She had half a mind to think it was going to spit fire at her. She hated creatures, and especially Wyverns. They reminded her too much of dragons.

"What is it?" Frederick asked, a bit snappily. He still seemed miffed about his argument with Nyphurri.

Nyphurri arched an eyebrow high as she caught a glimpse of the woman's outfit. It seemed that the seamstress had forgotten to sew a very important part of the tunic; the woman's entire backside was exposed! She couldn't understand how she could possibly be comfortable battling dressed in that. It was simply unpractical. Perhaps she wore it because enjoyed the leering looks of the men in the army.

The man, on the other hand, must've been of some nobility. He had a sort of stuck-up persona about him. His shirt was made of silk and even had some frilly ruffles on the collar. Again, his outfit too was unpractical; why would he soil such a nice shirt? Then again, if he was rich like she thought he was, he must've had plenty of silk shirts to spare. His eyes lit up when they met hers. He hopped off the Wyvern before the pink-haired woman could get out a word.

"Lady Nyphurri, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He bowed theatrically, swinging his arm back and resting his other hand upon his chest. "You are even lovelier than I'd imagined."

Nyphurri raised an eyebrow. The pink-haired woman rolled her eyes and Frederick sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"The pleasure is mine," she replied out of common courtesy, though her voice said otherwise, "Sir…?"

He chuckled. "Begging your pardon, milady! I go by Virion."

"I'm afraid you'll have to charm our comrade some other time, my lord," the pink-haired woman joked, smirking when Virion cast a glare towards her. She'd referred to him as 'my lord'. A confirmation that he was indeed of nobility. He didn't appear to be of Ylissan descent, however. Nyphurri was curious about where he hailed from. "We have orders from Robin and Lord Chrom, remember?"

Virion chuckled wearily, scratching the back of his head. "Forgive me, Cherche my dear. Lady Nyphurri's beauty distracted me for a moment."

Frederick rolled his eyes again. Nyphurri doubted she looked very lovely right now, covered in blood and sweat and grime. She was quickly getting the impression that this man was another lady-charmer, though a very different breed from Gaius. Whereas Gaius had an off-handed, flippant charm about him, this man was far more theatrical. Nyphurri supposed he wrote love poems and sang songs to any woman who would listen.

"We've orders from Robin to alert Nyphurri that he'd like her to open the last chest," Cherche said, her demeanor suddenly turning professional and serious. "It's on the southern ship. They're closing in on the eastern ship, and Robin wishes to ensure we have taken all the treasures before we defeat the leader."

"The signal will be given out soon, then?" Frederick asked.

Cherche nodded. "Any moment now, I would say."

"Very well," Frederick replied briskly, already beginning to start towards the other side of the ship. "Come, Nyphurri, we must get a hold of the chest."

Nyphurri, however, stood her ground. Folding her arms across her chest, she raised an eyebrow up at Cherche. "Robin has ordered _me_ to steal from the chest?" She didn't sound all too happy about it.

Cherche's brows furrowed in confusion. "Yes, of course. Is there a problem?"

"You're an assassin, are you not?" Virion questioned, also appearing confused.

"Precisely," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows. "I'm an assassin, not some petty thief." She scoffed. It was an insult that Robin would assign her such a petty task. Who did he think she was? She was the head spy of the Grimleal Council, descendant of the Eighth, and yet he thought he could order her to _steal_? She would've laughed in his face if he was there.

Now Virion and Cherche seemed even more confused. Frederick was eyeing her curiously. "Begging your pardon, my lady," Virion said patiently, "but I don't understand the difference."

Her nostrils flared as her eyes sparked in anger. Virion winced. Why was it that he always found himself on the bad side of a woman?

"Don't see the difference?!" Her voice came out as a hiss, barely concealing her outrage. She took a few steps toward Virion, glaring at him. He shrunk underneath her glare. "I was not trained as a master assassin so that I can run such petty errands as _stealing_! I am far above such foolishness!"

"You think that killing for gold is better than stealing?" It was Frederick who spoke. His eyes were narrowed at her and his voice was steely. "Do you really believe that?" He spoke down on her as if she was a fool for believing so.

"And if I do?" she countered, suddenly losing the anger in her voice; it was now dangerously soft. She slowly spun around to face him. Though her voice was no longer angry, her eyes were still blazing like a fire. Frederick stared her down, his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his mouth set. A long, tense moment of silence stretched between them.

"Well I'm afraid you haven't much a choice," Cherche said finally, switching the drift of the conversation back. She squinted towards the east. "If you're unable to open the chest, I shall alert Robin. Otherwise he would still need you to join the southern ship to help oil and prepare the ship."

"I am very much _capable_ of opening a chest," Nyphurri huffed indignantly, further insulted that Cherche believed her incapable. "It is simply beneath my profession. But," she sighed, giving up a part of her dignity for the sake of solidifying her trust with Robin, "if Lord Robin insists, I shall steal from the chest for him. Do let him know that this is the last time I will be stealing for him; I wish to speak with him further upon the matter later tonight."

"Very well, I shall pass on the word." Cherche nodded. "Come along, my lord," she called to Virion, "we have work to do."

Virion was more than eager to leave the tense atmosphere. He hopped onto the Wyvern without complaint and the duo was soon flying away. Frederick and Nyphurri left immediately afterwards, neither of them speaking.

Nyphurri was aggravated, of course, given everything that had just occurred. She wasn't surprised to hear Frederick's thoughts about her. Even his lord, naïve as he was, had given her a difficult time. A hired killer was simply too taboo. She'd lived ten years as a contract killer; she was very well aware of the taboo that came with the profession. She'd never let it bother her, however. She was good at what she did, and she got paid very well for it. It gave her the freedom to do as she pleased, a sense of freedom she had never had working for the Grimleal Council. What did she care for the opinions of others? As a matter of a fact, she could not possibly care less about Frederick's opinion. He was a Ylissan knight. He was no better than the mud on the bottom of her boots.

But just because she didn't give a Wyvern dung about his opinion didn't mean she could say so. She still had to win these people over. It would be difficult, certainly, because their preconceived notions about her were wired into their brains. But she could guilt-trip them like she had done with Chrom, or she could fiercely stand her ground like she had done with Frederick. It would not be easy, but she liked a good challenge.

Frederick, on the other hand, could not understand this woman's pride and reasoning. How was earning blood money better than stealing? Stealing was a crime, of course, but it almost never involved taking the life of another. It wasn't nearly as evil as contract killing. Then again, her fiery defense of her profession did bring it to light that perhaps she wasn't a spy after all. If she was a spy, surely she would've obeyed Robin's order without complaint – it would've brought too much attention to herself to argue. He would still keep a close eye on her, however. A Plegian and an assassin were not a rare combination, but surely a very dangerous one. He was still keeping an eye on Henry too, of course, but if either of them did turn out to be a spy, it would more likely be Nyphurri. Unless Henry's personality was all for show, Frederick doubted anyone would hire him as a spy. Especially not a man like Validar. Gangrel may have found Henry amusing, but even then he would've been more of a toy than anything.

They soon made it to the southern ship. There were dead bodies strewn all about. The ship appeared deserted, but then they heard a loud thud and watched a barrel crash onto the deck, spilling oil everywhere. Followed by the crash was a hearty laugh.

"Now that's more like it!" A shirtless man – Nyphurri really didn't understand the dress code around here – with spiky blond hair whooped and pumped his fist in the air. He was up at the helm, looking down at the disaster. "I knew you had it in yah!"

A woman with a wide-brimmed hat also came into view, glancing appraisingly down at the oil beginning to slide down the floor. "It was simply a matter of leveraging the barrel with the correct amount of pressure," she replied in a detached, clinical tone. She adjusted her glasses. "I could even write up a mathematical formula for you, if you'd like. It's really quite simple."

The blonde man pulled a face. "Nah, no need for that! Just keep doing what you're doing!"

"Very well." She disappeared from sight.

Nyphurri looked questioningly at Frederick. So far nearly all of the Shepherds she'd had a chance to meet or observe had been rather eccentric. Stahl and Frederick were probably the most normal ones she'd met. Even Lon'qu was a tad off-kilter, since it seemed he had a fear of women (though he didn't appear to fear her in the least). "Those are our comrades, I presume?"

"That's right," he sniffed. He didn't seem to approve of the way his comrades were handling the frowned and watched apprehensively as a second barrel came rolling down. "Vaike and Miriel. Nowi should be around here too…"

The response he received was not a cute little "I'm here!" like the name Nowi may have suggested. Instead, there was a roar from above and a dragon – a dragon! – came swooping down. Nyphurri gasped and nearly fell backwards in surprise. It was only thanks to her years of experience that she found herself standing upright.

"Nowi," Frederick reprimanded, his lips twitching, "you startled our new comrade." Nyphurri swore she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. She would've glared at him if she wasn't so preoccupied by the dragon.

"You have a pet _dragon_?!" Nyphurri hissed, warily fingering her dagger. Frederick chuckled when Nowi let out an indignant roar. Then, before Nyphurri's very eyes, the yellow dragon morphed into a young girl half of her size. Nyphurri stood staring at the transformation with her mouth hanging wide open.

"Hi," the girl said sweetly, giggling at Nyphurri's reaction. "I'm Nowi." She put her hands on her hips and pouted. "And I'm not a pet."

Nyphurri quickly shook herself from her shock, clearing her throat and fixing her expression into a blank mask. It was rare to catch her so off-guard, but meeting a manakete was even rarer.

"Begging your pardon, Nowi," she apologized. "I meant no offense." She hesitated a moment, wondering if it was rude to ask, before she blurted in a hurry, "Are you a manakete?" She ignored Frederick's look of amusement towards her. She felt foolish for acting like an overexcited child, but she couldn't help herself.

"Yep!" Nowi replied brightly, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Ever met one before?"

Nyphurri chuckled, relaxing slightly. "Can't say I have."

"Well you have now!" Nowi grinned. She certainly was a bundle of energy. Nyphurri had never expected a manakete to appear so young. The girl hardly looked a day over twelve. Nyphurri knew that looks were deceiving, however, and that the dragon within must've been far older than the girl that appeared on the surface.

"Nowi, can you direct Nyphurri towards the chest onboard?" Frederick asked, quickly reverting back to business. "I'll go and help the others with the barrels. Lord Chrom is supposed to give the signal soon."

"So soon?" Nowi asked, wide-eyed. "We better hurry, then! C'mon, Nyphurri, the chest is around here." The manakete directed the assassin towards the chest before taking leave to help the others.

Nyphurri squinted at the chest, twirling her dagger absentmindedly in her hand. It had been a long time since she'd picked a lock. Like she'd adamantly told Cherche and Frederick, she was an assassin, not a thief. She rarely ever stole. On occasion for her work as a spy she had had to pick up pieces of evidence here and there, but it had always been something that would go unnoticed. Probably only once or twice she had had to crack open a chest.

She sighed to herself and pulled the single lock pick she had from her pocket. She always carried one in case the occasion arouse for it. And that occasion was now.

Clicking the lock pick into the lock, she struggled for a few moments to find just the right spot. It wasn't difficult, but more a matter of luck and patience. The lock pick soon clicked into place. She smiled in accomplishment and pulled the chest open. Inside was an object that puzzled her. It was a silver sphere that reflected the colors of the rainbow even as it sat still. She'd never seen anything like it before. Did it even do anything? She didn't have a chance to ponder further upon it, because a ball of fire leapt to the sky and erupted into a hundred red stars.

"That's the signal!" Frederick roared. The ship lurched forward and began to veer towards the remaining ships. A sudden gust of wind aided them, and Nyphurri looked up to see Miriel using her Elwind tome to help propel them forward. The other ships also began to zero in on the enemy ships, all of them quickly gaining speed. "Nyphurri!" Frederick shouted at her. "Come here, quickly!"

Nyphurri swore and plucked the strange sphere from the chest, noting vaugley that it was surprisingly light. She stuffed it in her cloak. Clumsily she headed towards the helm, slipping around in the oil as she went. Vaike helped her up, practically dragging her up the last few steps.

"This is mad," she gasped, her eyes wide in horror as the other ships kept getting closer and closer.

"Mad," Miriel agreed calmly, lighting up her Fire tome, "but brilliant."

"That's Robin for yah!" laughed Vaike. Nowi, in her dragon form again, roared in agreement. Nyphurri stared at them in bewilderment, wondering how they could possibly remain so calm in this situation. They must've held a hell of a lot of faith and trust in Robin if they were willing to have him guide them to their deaths.

"Now!" Frederick shouted, throwing down his arm. Miriel sent a fire ball flying towards the deck. The oil instantly caught fire and the flames spread downwards toward the bow of the ship. "Wait for it…" Frederick murmured, his hands firmly on the wheel. Sweat trickled down his neck. The ship was growing warm from the flames. "Wait for it…"

Nyphurri was never one to panic. She always kept a cool, level head. But now, as their ship burned away into flames and headed straight toward the mess of colliding ships, she had half a mind to jump the ship and swim all the way back to Plegia. These Shepherds were mad, absolutely mad!

"JUMP!"

They had barely crashed into an opposing ship when they all jumped off. Nowi, holding Vaike and Miriel, flew off. Frederick and Nyphurri jumped off opposite sides of the boat. It wasn't until her body hit the water that Nyphurri realized she had made a serious miscalculation.

She couldn't swim.

The water was ice cold and met her body with a stinging blow. Water went up her nose and into her ears and eyes. She wanted to cry out in pain, but she knew that would only give her a mouthful of saltwater. She could feel the ships and waters lurch around her, making her spiral around uncontrollably. When she finally came to a stop, she thrust her arms and legs around desperately, making an attempt to swim back to the surface. Luckily she hadn't gotten too far under and was able to break surface.

She gasped as her head bobbed out of the water. Water dripped down into her eyes, blurring the brown of the ships and the red of the fire and the blue of the ocean into one big mess. She could hear screams and cries of pain, ships moaning and wooden planks falling into the water. She nearly gagged from the scent of burnt flesh and the smell of blood and fire and salt.

"HELP!" she shouted, flailing around in the water. She had never before screamed so loudly or so desperately before. If it wasn't a life and death situation, she may have been ashamed of herself for even asking for help.

Nobody answered her. Panic started to seize her and threatened to blind her. She flailed around in the water further, trying to keep herself above surface but in actuality only bringing herself deeper into the water. The water took her before she could get out another sound. It was more difficult to struggle against the water now, as she was tired from her first swim to the surface and her rising panic caused her thoughts and movements to become more rattled. She moved her arms and legs around uselessly, trying but failing miserably to fight against the ocean. It felt as if weights were wrapped around her ankles, dragging her deeper and deeper in the dark blue depths. Her ears were beginning to pound and her heart was racing. It was getting more and more difficult to breathe.

Gods damn it all! She was not going to die like this! No, she was going to die with a dagger in one hand and her pride in the other!

Despite her determination and best efforts, however, her body was simply not equipped with the muscle memory needed to swim. She had gone too far down that she could no longer easily break surface. Stubbornly she continued to struggle regardless. Her struggles, instead of aiding her, however, only made her tire quicker. Her body, exhausted from the strain, went limp. Her heartbeat began to slow. Vaguely she wanted to laugh at herself in disbelief. She'd never expected to die this way. A right shame it was. An embarrassment, even.

As darkness began to bear down upon her vision, she wondered if Fate had played her like a game of cards and she had been dealt the losing hand.


	8. Infirmary Blues

Robin's plan had been a relative success. They had destroyed the enemy fleet and still had half of their own, with plenty of room to spare. Unfortunately, the whole "jumping ship" part of the plan had been poorly executed. They had crammed as many people as they could on fliers, but there had still been plenty of people who had had to endure the ice cold water. It would've been better if they'd selected only a handful of people (three people to a flier and a ship) to oil and crash the ships, transferring the rest of the army to their remaining ships. Of course that plan would've had its caveats as well. They would've lost both time and the element of surprise.

Still, Robin couldn't help but feel like he'd failed his comrades. Sure, most of them had made it across the waters safely, but there were always the few who didn't. Poor Donny had received a massive burn on his arm, Panne had been blasted yards away from the force of the explosion, Maribelle's face had been marred with wooden splinters from when the ships had collapsed, and Nyphurri had very nearly drowned to death. Despite the beaming expressions his other comrades gave him and the pats on the back he received, Robin felt responsible for his comrades' injuries.

Frederick too felt responsible. For Nyphurri's near-death experience, that was. He had been paired with her for the battle; she had been his responsibility. It was his duty to watch after his partner and protect her from harm's way. Yet she had almost drowned right under his nose. Just because he didn't trust her didn't mean he believed she deserved a watery grave.

It was all because he hadn't reacted quickly enough. After realizing that she'd jumped off the other side of the ship, instead of alerting the others of her absence he had merely assumed that Nowi had found her and pulled her from the water. It wasn't until he had made it to the safehold ship, where everyone was congregating, that he realized she was nowhere in sight. Nowi had told him, eyes wide in panic, that she'd thought that Nyphurri was with him! They'd quickly alerted Robin and Chrom of Nyphurri's absence. All the tactician could do was widen his innocent brown eyes in worry and reply that she was among many other missing persons. But Naga be blessed, soon afterwards Gregor, soaked from head to foot, arrived on the ship, carrying an unconscious Nyphurri in his arms. She was quickly taken to Lissa and Libra for healing.

Frederick knew it all could've been avoided if he'd jumped off the same side of the ship as Nyphurri. Or he should've at least felt alarmed and alerted the others of her disappearance. It was his guilt that brought him to the healer's room now. The Captain's quarters had been set aside for them. To his surprise, Lon'qu was siting outisde the door, his head in his hands. It confirmed to Frederick that Lon'qu and Nyphurri were indeed acquainted. They must've been fairly close if Lon'qu was waiting for her.

"You're not allowed in," Lon'qu sighed, looking up when Frederick approached. He looked tired.

Frederick glanced at the door. "How long have you been out here?"

Lon'qu, a man of few words, simply replied, "Long enough."

Frederick didn't reply immediately. He gestured towards to a spot besides Lon'qu. "May I...?"

Lon'qu moved over. "Go ahead." Frederick sat down beside Lon'qu, leaning back against the doorframe.

"Do you know how she's doing?" He didn't have to say a name for Lon'qu to understand who he was referring to.

"Not really," he admitted, frowning. "All I know is that she's still alive and breathing." He smiled tightly. "That's a start, isn't it?"

Frederick took a deep breath. He knew how difficult it was to wait in fear for an injured comrade, never knowing whether or not he'll stand again. He clamped a hand sympathetically on Lon'qu's shoulder. Lon'qu flinched at the touch but didn't pull away. He stared at his fingers, avoiding Frederick's gaze.

"From what I know of her so far, I know she's a fighter," Frederick said quietly. He squeezed Lon'qu's shoulder. "She'll pull through."

Lon'qu only nodded in response. He didn't seem all too reassured, however. He shifted restlessly and sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. Silence lapsed between them for several moments until Frederick's curiousity could no longer bear it.

"I can't help but be curious, Lon'qu," he began slowly, wondering how to go about this question sensitively, given the situation. "How are you acquainted with Nyphurri?" He paused and elaborated, "I find it strange that a Chon'sin man such as yourself knows a Plegian woman like her."

The corner of Lon'qu's lips lifted wryly. "Of course you find it strange," he said softly. "You doubt her because she is a Plegian, and you doubly doubt her because she is an assassin. Perhaps if you put aside your judgement, you wouldn't find it so strange."

Frederick furrowed his brows in confusion. "I don't understand." Lon'qu was a straightfoward man, yet now he was speaking in riddles.

"Exactly."

Frederick was getting annoyed. He tried not to show it, but he knew Lon'qu could sense his growing irritation.

"She's a good person. I wish you would not hold her nationality and profession against her. You do," he added when Frederick opened his mouth to retort. "And you know it."

Frederick didn't reply. He folded his arms childishly across his chest. Lon'qu was right. Frederick would admit that he gave Plegians a far more difficult time than he did with any other nationality. But what Lon'qu wasn't considering was the history between Ylisse and Plegia. Given everything that had happened between them, it was difficult to trust any Plegian.

He thought that Lon'qu was upset with him and no longer wished to converse. But the Chon'sin man continued to talk. As a matter of a fact, it was the most Frederick had ever heard him speak. He told Frederick about his past with Nyphurri, and Frederick found himself more and more surprised the deeper he went into the story.

"She is one of the most compassionate people I know," Lon'qu concluded quietly. During his story, he'd been looking off towards the horizon, but now he met Frederick's eye. His gaze was steady and solemn. "I am forever grateful for her help. Judge her on her character, I ask you. Don't make assumptins about her based off her nationality and profession."

Lon'qu's story allowed Frederick to see Nyphurri in a new light. Despite being an assassin, she wasn't completely heartless. She didn't think about only herself. She wasn't very greedy either. And once again it put into question the possibility of her being a spy. What kind of a spy would donate to the poor? Then again, their encounter may have taken place before she'd been recruited as a spy. With the new king in place, she may have been a relatively new addition to the Plegian brigade.

But still, Lon'qu had put things in perspective. It seemed that there was more to Nyphurri than met the eye. The only problem was that Frederick wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *

When Nyphurri awoke, the first thing she noticed was the wooden ceiling above her. She blinked up at it. Then, slowly but surely, she became acutely aware of the pain in her throat and the soreness of her body. She continued staring up at the ceiling, pondering where she was and how she'd gotten there. Then, in a sudden rush, the memories came flooding back to her, almost as intensely as the water that had drowned her.

But wait, if she'd drowned to death, how was she alive?

She didn't have time to figure this puzzle out, because she heard the pattering of feet and the rustling of cloth. Instinctively she moved to stand or find some way of defending herself, but her body was so sore it hurt to even lift her head. She also became aware that she wasn't wearing her cloak, where most of her weapons were hidden. She felt exposed and vulnerable without it.

"Don't worry," a soothing voice came from her left. "You're alright now."

A woman came into view. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and deep green eyes. Her skin appeared supple and soft and her voice sounded like liquid honey. She was clothed in all white.

Nyphurri wasn't a very religious person. She didn't even consider herself a true Grimleal. Like the Council had said, the Eighth had always been the least to uphold the Grimleal principles. She would sooner run for her life than sacrifice herself for Grima. But when she saw this woman, the first thought that came her mind was that she was an angel.

"Are you an angel?" Nyphurri whispered. Her voice came out raspy and it pained her to speak. If she really was dead, then the afterlife wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

The angel raised her golden brows in surprise and laughed. "No, my lady, I am no angel. I am a simple monk. It seems that you're not ready to meet an angel quite yet."

Nyphurri blinked. It took her a couple moments to digest the information. So she was still alive. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, considering she could still breathe and feel and talk. But still she felt relief wash over her, temporarily easing her, body and soul. It seemed that Fate had other plans for her.

After her initial relief, however, she began to realize that the woman in white wasn't a woman at all. If she was a monk, then she wasn't a she, but a he! This was almost as shocking to Nyphurri as the news that she was still alive. For how could a person so beautiful and feminine be a man?

"My name is Libra," the monk said patiently, once Nyphurri appeared to get her bearings. "And I've been taking care of you this past day. How do you feel?" He gestured that he would be right back, and he disappeared from view as he padded away.

"Sore," croaked Nyphurri. Libra chuckled softly. He came back holding a steaming cup.

"Understandable, of course. Here, this tonic should help ease your throat." He helped her sit up – for Grima's sake, even his touch was gentle like a woman's! – and helped her drink the tonic. It was warm and soothing down her throat, despite its bitter flavor. "Better?"

"Much," Nyphurri replied gratefully. Even though her voice still sounded rough, it no longer hurt to speak. "Thank you."

Libra smiled. "You're going to be sore for a few days," he warned, "and this tonic is the least I can do for you. I'm afraid only time can help the rest of your body heal." He paused. "Do you remember what happened?"

 _Darkness began to bear down upon her vision as the claw of Death wrapped around her and threatened to take her deeper..._

"Quite well," she replied stiffly. "What I don't understand is how I could possibly be alive." She looked questioningly at Libra.

"Gregor heard your cry for help and rescued you from the water," he explained. "He saved you just in time, too. Had you been underwater much longer..." He trailed off. Nyphurri felt a chill run down her spine. Oh, yes, she was very much aware what would've happened if she'd stayed underwater any longer. Thankfully Fate saw to it that she didn't drown to her death. It seemed she still had a lot of business left to attend to, both as a double agent in the army and in the world. This Gregor man, whoever he was, had saved her life, and now she owed it to him. "No matter. You're here with us now." He placed a hand gently upon her shoulder. "Rest easy. I'm going to alert the others that you're awake. Whenever you're feeling up to it, I know there are some visitors who wish to see you."

Visitors? She assumed they must've been Lords Chrom and Robin. She was quite sure the majority of the army didn't even know her name. At least, she hoped not. That was the way she intended to keep it.

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Spending an entire day in the infirmary allowed Nyphurri to quickly become acquainted with her fellow patients. (Or prisoners, as she saw it. She'd never been the kind of person to stay in one place for long, and she absolutely despised being doted on. She was capable of caring for herself; she'd done so ever since she was a child, and she certainly didn't need help now.)

Donny, a mercenary, had received a massive burn on his arm from the ships catching fire. Lissa was putting ointment on it every hour, and slowly the bright red flesh was turning into a lighter pink. Donny didn't appear the least bit worried about it most of the time, though. He would laugh and joke with the others. It wasn't until the ointment came along he subdued.

Donny was a shockingly young lad – Nyphurri doubted he was a day over thirteen. She couldn't believe that the army would employ a person so young. Perhaps the Shepherds weren't as holy and unblemished as they tried to appear. No righteous organization would allow a thirteen year old child to kill and think that it was acceptable. Then again, Nyphurri had started her first killings around the same age. But that was another story. The Grimleal weren't known for their morals. The Ylissans, with their so-called ethical values and principles, were supposed to be saints, as saintlike as the dragon they worshipped. Yet here they were, using child labor. Nyphurri found this revelation as disquieting as it was colorful.

Maribelle was a healer, but today she was the one getting healed. Her face – which was actually rather pretty – was marred with dozens of small scars. The poor lass had been scraped by a wooden plank that had fallen near her after she'd jumped into the waters, and as a result dozens of splinters had entered her usually unblemished features. Apparently she'd made quite the fuss at first, crying about how her beauty would never be the same, but by the time Nyphurri awoke she was "acting like herself." Well, apparently that meant she was usually such a bratty little noble. All she ever did was boss everyone around with her nose in the air and a strut in her walk. She acted as if she owned the damn place, when in fact she was only the patient. Nyphurri had half a mind to kill her in the middle of the night and make it seem like she'd died from the injury.

Nyphurri was most intrigued by Panne, and the reason was obvious. Just like meeting Nowi was the first time she'd become acquainted with a manakete, meeting Panne was the first time she'd seen a Taguel. As a matter of fact, Panne was the very last of the Taguel race. For that Nyphurri was thankful. They didn't need any more half-breeds dirtying their world. Nyphurri was equally awed and disgusted by her. The half-breed was essentially a walking rabbit. At least Nowi looked like a human. With Panne, on the other hand, it was hard to distinguish human and beast. In Nyphurri's eyes – just like in the Grimleal's eyes – she was a beast and should be treated as such. However, Nyphurri knew she couldn't just spit on the Taguel and tell it to be gone; she had to be respectful to her comrade. But she was sure the Taguel sensed her dislike towards it (perhaps it could smell her hatred). They barely spoke to each other. Nyphurri only hoped that Robin would never pair them up together in battle.

Like Libra had said, visitors did drop by throughout the day. The first visitor who came by that day was, to Nyphurri's surprise, not Chrom and Robin but Lon'qu. He marched in all worried and concerned, his hair askew and his brows furrowed. He didn't speak much, of course, other than acknowledge his condolences. He stayed quietly by her side for some time. The others seemed intrigued by his relationship with Nyphurri, and even Nyphurri herself wondered why the lad felt such a strong attachment to her. She figured it was because she had saved his life, and he still felt that he was in debt for it.

Stahl and Sumia later toted in a pie for everyone. Upon Lissa's and Libra's permission, they were all able to enjoy a slice or two. Sumia, as it turned out, was Chrom's wife. Nyphurri was surprised to see that he had chosen someone as common as she. She didn't have a single drop of noble blood in her. Nyphurri wondered if this was again one of Chrom's ploys to relate to his people and be an "equal" among them. She couldn't find any other possible explanation as to why he would choose this clutz of a Pegasus knight as his wife (the woman had very nearly upturned the pie right in Nyphurri's face!) It would've made more tactical sense to wed Aversa, seeing how she was the Plegian king's daughter. Their union would've put an end to the fued between the two nations. Fool of a lord probably hadn't even thought that through.

Speaking of the Exalt, he and his tactician visited while everyone was eating their pie.

"Ooh, do I get a slice?" he asked, reaching out towards the tray. Sumia slapped his hand away. Robin snickered, earning himself a glare from Chrom.

"Sorry, love, but this is for our patients and their hard-working healers," Sumia admonished. Libra bowed his head humbly and Lissa stuck a tongue out at her brother. There were pie crumbs on the corner of her mouth.

Chrom frowned all sadly. "Not even a bite?"

Sumia did not fall for his puppy dog eyes, though she giggled a bit. "Not even a bite." In warning, she waved the knife they had used to cut the pie at him. Chrom raised his hands in a gesture of peace and took a step back.

"Alright, alright. Sorry I asked."

Robin chuckled and patted his friend on the back. "Better luck next time, my friend."

"I think you need to cut back on the pies anyway, Chrom," Lissa said. A wry smile was twitching at the corner of her lips. "Looks like you've already had one too many."

Stahl coughed loudly, and Nyphurri thought it was to cover up his laugh. Donny and Robin were not so discreet, however, and burst out laughing. Chrom scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

"Are you calling me fat?"

Lissa giggled. "I never said that!" She batted her eyelashes all innocently.

"No, but that's what you were implying!"

"Hey, she might have a point, Chrom!" laughed Robin, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. Chrom scowled at him. "I _have_ noticed that your moves on the battlefield are slowing down." He grinned cheekily.

"Nonsense!" Chrom cried indignantly.

"Lissa's simply looking out for your health," Maribelle quipped up, feeling the need to come to her friend's defense. "No need to make a fuss about it."

Chrom raised an eyebrow at her. Everyone in the room knew that Maribelle would've made a far bigger fuss if somebody had made the same accusation at her.

"You can never have too many pies," argued Donny in his thick country drawl. "Give Chrom a break!"

Nyphurri noted that he had referred to the Lord Exalt as 'Chrom' and not 'Lord Chrom'. Again, here was another example of Chrom trying to integrate with the commonfolk by having them disregard his title.

"Thanks, Donny." Chrom grinned appreciatively. "It's nice to know at least someone's on my side." He stared pointedly at Robin, who shrugged. Donny grinned and gave Chrom a thumbs-up.

"Anyways," Robin said after moment of silence passed, "we didn't come by for pie or to discuss Chrom's weight." The Exalt shot Robin a look. "We wanted to check in on everyone to see how you're all doing." He looked around at them all, but his gaze lingered on Panne and Nyphurri (perhaps because they had both stayed silent throughout the banter).

"I'm doin' swell, thanks for askin'!" Donny showed Chrom and Robin his arm. "Lissa's been doin' a real good job fixing me up!"

"And you've been a fantastic patient," Lissa smiled. Donny chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

"Lissa's been taking great care of me as well." It was jarring to hear Maribelle speak after Donny; their dialects were complete opposites. "My scars are healing up nicely. They should be gone in a week or so."

"...My leg is healed," Panne said shortly, when everyone's eyes turned to her expectantly. "I should be able to leave the infirmary by tomorrow morn." She nodded appreciatvely to Libra, who smiled and nodded humbly.

Nyphurri didn't like the way everyone's eyes swiveled to her when it was her turn to speak. She hated being the center of attention. Thankfully, it was a rare occurence that only ever occured when she had to reiterate her reports and findings to the Council.

She cleared her throat. "I'm fine. I haven't even sustained any injuries." _So I've no idea why I'm still in this ruddy place._

"But you still need your rest," Libra reminded her. The monk had sensed her restlessness and agitation. "Your body still needs time to fully recover before you can be up and moving again."

Nyphurri tried not to scowl.

"I know it's not much fun," Robin smiled, approaching Nyphurri's bedside. "But we're only looking out for you, Nyphurri. You'd be a danger to yourself if you fought on the battlefield before becoming fully recovered."

"...Aye, my lord," she muttered grudgingly. She would've liked to argue that _she_ knew what was best for her, but she didn't want to cause a scene in front of everyone.

Perhaps he didn't want to further upset her, because he didn't correct her when she referred to him as her lord. He placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you're in here to begin with." Nyphurri opened her mouth to argue but Robin shook his head. "It was my plan, my mistake. You're my responsbility, and I'm afraid you have to rest until Libra gives you the all-clear."

Nyphurri was surprised to hear Robin's thoughts. She didn't see how her nearly drowning to death was his repsonsiblity. Surely there had been folly on his part for the execution of the plan – she just had to look around the room to see his mishaps – but that didn't mean she was his responsbility. It was a strange notion to her. For her life was her own, and thus her own responsibility.

"I'm flattered by your concern, my lord, but I'm afraid I'll have to disgaree with you – respectfully, of course." Robin raised his eyebrows. "I'm my own responsibility. This is nobody's fault but mine."

Robin seemed surprised initially, but he seemed to understand her after a moment. He chuckled softly and shook his head. He sat down beside her on the bed. "That's not true. We're all responsible for each other. We're comrades, remember?" He smiled. His smile, as always, was very warm and understanding. "We look out for each other. Your life is every bit as important to me as my own."

Nyphurri couldn't hide her surprise at his bold statement. From the geniune warmth in his voice and eyes, she knew he truly meant it. And she was disturbed by it. How could he possibly value her life as much as his own? He was a fool! It was this kind of thinking that got a man killed. You always had to put your own life ahead of anyone else's. She certainly didn't value his life as much as her own, regardless of the fact that he was Grima's successor. She valued her life far over any other's.

She forced a smile on her face. She had to act like she was touched by his words rather than disgusted by them. "Of course. I must admit, it's difficult getting into the routine of working with comrades." She chuckled. "I'm used to working alone."

"And that's understandable," Robin reassured her, falling for her facade. "I know it'll take time for you to adjust to this...working environment"–Nyphurri chuckeld at his word choice–"and that's okay. I just want you to know that you're our comrade now; you're one of us." He smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We're here for you, Nyphurri. Always."

She felt a lump form in her throat. She'd only been in the army for a few days, yet he was treating her like she'd been with them all along. Yes, it was a good thing that they were so foolishly trusting (it made her job a lot easier), but at the same time the kindness they treated her with made her uncomfortable. She glanced away from him.

"Do you think it would be alright if I went out for a breath of fresh air?" She tried to keep her voice calm and collected. "I'm afraid being locked up in here all day has me feeling a little lightheaded."

"Of course." Robin stood up and extended his gloved hand to her. She took it and got to her feet. It had been a while since she'd stood up, and she swayed slightly as the floor rocked underneath her feet. Robin reached out to steady her, but she pulled away before he could help.

"I'm fine," she said, a little snappily, hating the idea of being helped. Realizing her tone, she subdued. "Just need some time to...adjust." She really did feel light-headed. As the ship rocked beenath her, she lost her footing and nearly fell back on her bed. This time Robin did hold her upright.

"Maybe you're not ready to go outside yet." Robin seemed concerned, his white-blond eyebrows crinkled in worry. "I wouldn't want you to fall off the railing and have a repeat of what happened earlier."

"I'm fine," she said again. "Really, Lord Robin, you needn't worry about me."

He looked at her sternly. "I'm no healer, but I've seen enough to know you're still not feeling yourself."

"Once I go outside I'll feel better," she argued. She knew she was being pushy, and in normal cases she would've dropped the conversation. But she hated being holed up in a room all day. It felt like a jail sentence to her. She'd never been to jail, of course (the authorities could never catch her) but she supposed this was as close as it got to the real thing.

Robin stared at her for a long moment, conflicted by his concern for her well-being and his sympathy – he understood she wasn't the kind of person you could lock up all day. Then he sighed.

"Alright, we'll go outside for a few minutes. But I'm going out there with you." He waggled a finger at her, pretending to act stern. But his eyes twinkled with good humor. "No compromise."

Nyphurri took what she could. Perhaps she wouldn't have a moment of solititude for herself (which was what she really craved; she hated being stuck in this room with all these people around her) but at least she was going to get out of this hellhole. Taking the arm Robin offered, she grinned and replied,

"Lead the way."

* * *

 _This story is nothing like I've written before. Usually my OCs are fiery or witty female characters. Although Nyphurri is a strong and determined character as well, she hides in the background and keeps her thoughts to herself. It's intereseting and a little difficult to write her, as she's not what I'm accustomed to writing. But different is good!_

 _I'm also trying to really integrate the differences in cultures and values between different nations and how that can lead to conflict. I suppose this story is more focused on the interactions between different characters and the growth of my own OC rather than a romance. The romance is just the cherry on top. Maybe I should change the genre? I'm not really sure what I would change it to, though. Any opinions?_

 _Well, that was just what I noticed today while I wrote this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts as well. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you!_


	9. Seaside Conversations

The tension was so thick in the chamber Bryne could taste it.

For hours they'd been debating whether or not to plan an attack on the Halidom of Ylisse. The younger chamber members (himself included) were all for a siege of the kingdom. A few of the Elders, and most especially King Validar, however, were against the idea.

"This is the perfect time to strike!" Maoul, who was in support of the overthrow, slammed his fist against the table. "Why do you hesitate?! There will never be another opportune moment like the one we are presented with!"

"Aye!" agreed Jesheel, a representative of the young councilors. He was a striking figure with long red hair and dazzling blue eyes. Being of nobility, he had more privilege than the other councilors his age. He would make a fine leader one day. "With their Exalt gone, their kingdom is left without leadership. Surely they have stationed soldiers and knights to defend the kingdom, but without leadership they will scatter like mice! We will attack with our Plegian army in full-force!"

"And they will have no allies to aid them," added Jesheel's counterpart, Gardini. She too was one of the more powerful and vocal of the council members. "The Khans of Regna Ferox – both of them, for Gods' sake – have left their country to support Chrom in his strike against Walhart. The Ylissans will only be able to rely on themselves. We would easily crush them." To make her point she made a fist and pounded it against her palm. Maoul nodded in approval.

Validar was impassive. He awaited for the others to finish patiently, standing still like a grand statue. The gold on his headpiece flickered in the darkness. Aversa sat by his side, picking at her long nails. Bryne resisted the urge to scoff at her. Was she truly so confident in her father that she believed she already knew what the outcome of this meeting would be? It seemed more like cockiness to Bryne, and he didn't appreciate the disrespectful attitude she was giving her fellow councilors.

"I admire everyone's confidence and boldness," Validar began. The room fell silent at once; his presence and soft voice commanded attention. He seemed to take up the whole chamber. "Truly, I do. It warms my heart to know that you all have confidence in our army and our abilities. And I agree. If we wished it, we would be able to crush the Ylissan army without so much as batting an eye."

The chamber grew loud all at once, councilors cheering and roaring in agreement and surprise. Validar raised his hand to silence them.

"I am not finished quite yet, my brothers and sisters." The corner of his lips curled up into a patient yet strangely sinister smile. "As capable as we are of waging war on the Halidom, that is no longer our objective."

Once again the chamber went into an uproar, this time of indignity and anger. Validar waited patiently, his black eyes appraising the room.

"What do you mean, it is no longer our 'objective'?!" demanded Luthin, his dark green eyes alight with fury. His lined face was tight in anger. "For two decades we have sought vengeance on that cursed country for their damned 'Holy Crusade' and all the ruin they have brought to our people. Yet you can look me in the eyes and tell me that, even though this is the perfect opportunity to strike, you refuse to command us?!"

"Mayhap we shall command the Plegian army ourselves!" Maoul cried out boldly. His eyes were wide, as if surprised at himself for only just thinking of the idea. "You may be King, Validar, but this Council can still overrule you!"

There were roars of agreement and murmurs of fear. Excitement and anger and tension rolled through the chamber like waves in a storm. Bryne held his breath.

"You are certainly correct, Elder Maoul," Validar replied calmly. Though he wore a calm exterior, there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The Council can easily overrule my decision. But I would highly advise against it."

Maoul laughed derisively and his brother scoffed.

"Tell us, Validar." Ragul, who had remained relatively silently throughout the debates, his white head bowed down in thought, spoke up. "Why is that you are against this idea?"

The room went silent once more. Idre, the only Elder who had yet to speak up, turned his blue eyes on Validar expectantly.

"The answer is quite simple, Lord Ragul. Our mission is no longer to overtake the Halidom, but to resurrect our Master Grima." He paused. A wave of murmurs went throughout the chamber. Bryne frowned in confusion. Wasn't resurrecting their Master always their mission? They had always made decisions with that as their end goal. "I am no Gangrel. As much as I despise the Ylissans and everything they stand for, they are no longer worth our time.

"If we were to strike Ylisse, yes, we would certainly overpower them and take siege of the castle. But then Chrom will hear news of his city's fall, and he would surely come back to aid his people. He would sooner leave Valm in the hands of Walhart than leave his own people in our hands. And what would happen then?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"We would crush the Exalt once and for all!" Jesheel shouted boldly, stepping forth. "Then we can claim the Halidom as our territory! It will all be Plegian land! _Our_ land!"

The councilors seemed to agree with Jesheel's bold statment; they roared and clapped their hands in approval. A shadow of an impatient sneer passed over Validar's face.

"Isn't that what we want?" Idre said softly to Validar. "To crush the Ylissans once and for all, to cleanse the Ylissans of their filthy ideas and beliefs that Naga be their Divine? I must say, it is an honorable and worthy notion. Surely Master Grima would agree."

"Shall we include Him in this meeting?" Validar questioned, raising an ink black eyebrow.

Idre raised an eyebrow right back at him. "Are you telling me He would not agree? To spread the faith of the Grimleal and destroy the Ylissans?"

"It is not written in the scripts of Fate," was Validar's response, neither denying nor agreeing to Idre's question. He raised his arms to quiet the chamber down. His black eyes glinted. "And so it shall remain."

* * *

Nyphurri felt like a prisoner being released from a particularly hellish jail. It took her eyes a moment to adjust the light. The sun shone brightly down upon them; it must've been the afternoon. In front of her laid the entire expanse of the sea and the sky, creating a never-ending field of blue. Nyphurri closed her eyes and took a deep, long breath, savoring the smell of the salty sea and the gentle breeze tickling her hair against her face.

Robin, watching her reaction, chuckled softly. "Nice out, isn't it?"

Nyphurri grinned. "Very nice. I must say, it's far better than being stuck in that stuffy room." Whereas the makeshift infirmary constantly smelled like tonics and ointment, out here the air was fresh. She could finally breathe.

They headed over to the railing, Nyphurri's arm still linked to Robin's. Once Nyphurri had grown accustomed to the outdoors air, she began to realize that it was rather chilly out here without her cloak. She felt strange and naked without it, though the only parts exposed of her were her arms.

Robin felt her shudder against him. He turned to her in concern. The wind played with his white-blonde hair. "Are you cold?"

"A little," she admitted, smiling weakly. Her eyes widened in surprise when Robin began to shrug off his cloak. "Oh no, I couldn't–"

Robin laughed. His laugh was as warm and inviting as his eyes. "Don't be shy." He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. She was immediately enveloped in warmth, as Robin's body heat had kept the cloak warm. It was surprisingly heavy, and she wondered how he managed to move around in it on the battlefield. "We don't want you catching a cold and having an extended stay at the infirmary, do we?"

He made a good point. "No," she agreed. "We certainly would want to avoid that." Still, she couldn't help but be reminded by what a gentleman he was. Throughout the observations she'd made, it seemed that Robin was a respectful (and respected) young lad who spoke gently and thoughtfully. Validar would've never offered her his cloak; he would've kept it for himself to keep warm. She was again reminded of how opposite they were from each other.

Robin, pleased with her response, grinned. "Besides," he added, "Lissa would have my head if I was the reason you caught a cold." His grin was playful.

Nyphurri realized he was jesting with her. "So you're only thinking about yourself at the end of the day." She raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

"Yeah, pretty much." His brown eyes twinkled with good humor.

She scoffed, playing along. "So much for that camaraderie pep talk you were spewing to me earlier."

He shrugged. "I had to cheer you up somehow, didn't I?"

She laughed. It was interesting to see the more playful side of Robin. She knew he had one, as she'd seen it before, only this was the first time he was directing it towards her. "Just like you're trying to do now?" She smiled.

His expression softened. "Yes, and it seems to be working."

"Let's not get overconfident now," she teased, her dark eyes alight with amusement. He chuckled. After a moment she softened. "All jokes aside, I do appreciate you looking out for me."

He smiled gently. "It's the least I can do for you."

She would've taken a moment to both admire and ridicule his sense of humility if she hadn't been distracted by a shout of, "Oi, Robin!"

Both Robin and Nyphurri turned to see a man approach them. He was a large, buff man with short orange hair. What took Nyphurri back about his appearance was his age. She'd thought that she and Frederick were the oldest ones in the army, but it appeared that this man took first place. His lined and weathered face belied years of hardship.

He'd been walking towards the pair, but stopped short when he caught sight of Nyphurri. He raised his eyebrows in what appeared to be surprise, his eyes darting between the two Plegians and landing on the cloak upon Nyphurri's shoulders. Then a mischievous smirk crossed his lips.

"Oh, Gregor is sorry. He did not mean to interrupt private moment." He grinned and winked.

His accent was nothing like she'd heard before. It was thick and broken. Each word was clearly separated and pronounced, and his 'i's were elongated like 'e's. She wondered where he hailed from and what language was his native tongue. Perhaps he was from somewhere around the northern mountains?

Nyphurri was so caught off-guard by his accent that she hadn't been paying attention to what exactly he'd said. Robin, however, had caught on to Gregor's insinuation. He rolled his eyes.

"We're not having a private moment like the way you're thinking," Robin said, sounding exasperated. "Did you need anything, Gregor?"

Nyphurri raised her eyebrows. This man was Gregor? The very Gregor who had rescued her from the waters and saved her life? She'd been expecting him to be a knight of sorts. Certainly not a mercenary.

"Gregor will come back." He waved dismissively. Did he just refer to himself in the third person? This man was just getting stranger and stranger. "You take time with pretty lady."

It was then that Nyphurri realized the insinuations he was making. Though, admittedly, judging from the cloak around her shoulders and the proximity of herself and Robin, it was an understandable conclusion he came to.

"It's not like that," Robin said firmly. "I don't want you leaving here with the wrong idea."

Gregor, however, was having none of it. He winked again. "Don't worry, Robin. Your secret safe with Gregor." He put a finger to his lips, indicating he would keep quiet.

"There _is_ no secret." Robin rubbed his temple. "Will you tell him, Nyphurri?"

"It's just like Lord Robin says," Nyphurri agreed, nodding. "He and I are nothing more than comrades."

Gregor raised his eyebrows. "Is pretty lady sure? Robin is good catch!" He grinned encouragingly at the tactician, who sighed and smacked a hand to his face. Nyphurri didn't blame the man. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed by Gregor. She supposed she felt a mixture of the two.

"Quite certain. And my name is Nyphurri," she added, not appreciating how he kept referring to as 'pretty lady.' She had a name, thank you very much.

"Nyphurri?" She was surprised to hear that he could roll his r's. Her name actually sounded rather charming in his accent. "Pretty name for pretty lady!" Robin sighed and shook his head. Nyphurri's lips drew into a thin line. Great, the third lady-charmer of the army she'd encountered so far. She only hoped there weren't many more. "My name is Gregor." He grinned and thumped a fist to his chest.

She softened. She reminded herself that he was the one who had saved her life, and she shouldn't treat him coldly because of his lady-charming ways. "Yes, I've heard of you. You saved my life." Robin, perhaps feeling as if he was in the middle of a private moment, excused himself.

Gregor shrugged and waved her off as if his courageous act wasn't a big deal. "Eh, Gregor just tried to help."

"'Just tried to help'?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow high. "You're the reason I'm still here today; I owe you my life." She bowed deeply. "I can never thank you enough for what you did." Nyphurri meant this quite literally. He had saved her life, and now she was in his debt. An invisible contract had been signed between them, binding them to each other. She now had to repay him one way or another.

Gregor, however, did not see it like that. He imagined no contract and no invisible chains linking them to each other. He'd only done his part as a comrade. He laughed and clamped a hand on her shoulder. "That's what comrades are for! No payment necessary!"

Nyphurri raised her eyebrows. "Surely you must be jesting." Then again, perhaps he wasn't. As strange as it still was to her, she was getting more and more accustomed to the way the Shepherds treated each other. There was a sense of camaraderie among them she'd never experienced before. She'd always only ever looked out for herself, and this concern everyone seemed to have for one other's well-being was unsettling to her.

"You know when Gregor jests," he replied a bit smugly, grinning. "Because you laugh."

Nyphurri merely let out a breath of disblief through her nose. "But there must be something I can do to repay you," she insisted.

Gregor hummed to himself thoughtfully. Pretending to think, he tapped his chin. "Well, if Nyphurri insists..." A wicked grin crossed his features. Nyphurri immediately knew this man was up to no good. "How about kiss for your knight in shiny armor?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He leaned towards her and pointed to his cheek, which she noted vaugely was flecked with scars here and there.

She laughed in surprise. The man had guts. She had to give him that. "I would, but..." With her lips quirked up in a half-smirk, her eyes alight with amusement, she sidestepped away from him. "Unfortunately, you're no knight."

Gregor raised his eyebrows in surprise. She wasn't sure what he was surprised about – the fact that she'd refused his offer, or that she had the audacity to tease him. She figured it was the latter when he grinned. "Ah, Nyphurri got Gregor!" He threw his head back and guffawed. "Fine, how about kiss for mercenary in rusty armor?" He grinned roguishly.

She was having trouble deciding whether she found him endearing or annoying. She couldn't deny that he had a certain charisma and charm about him. "I'm afraid I shall still have to decline that offer."

Gregor pursed his lips. "But you said you wanted to repay Gregor! Repay with kiss!"

Damn, he was smart. But Nyphurri had her pride and values, and she wasn't going to back down now. "Sorry, Sir Gregor, but you're just going to have to figure something else out."

His grin was devious. Rocking on his heels, he innocently replied, "Well, if Nyphurri wants, we can do more than just kiss..." Nyphurri gaped at him in disbelief, shocked at the audacity of his suggestion. He burst out laughing at her expression and patted her roughly on the shoulder. "Gregor just joking!" Her expression of shock was quickly replaced by a dark scowl.

"I thought you said I'd know when you are jesting because I'd laugh," she huffed, glaring at him. She folded her arms across her chest. "But I'm not laughing." Her lips drew into a thin line.

"Aw, c'mon," Gregor said coaxingly, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. "Gregor meant no offense. Don't be mad!"

Nyphurri didn't reply. Instead she clenched her jaw and turned away from him, shifting her gaze to the sea.

"How about this?" Gregor offered. "You forgive Gregor for what he said and we are...how you say..." He struggled to find the right word; he gestured vaguely in the air. "Even?"

Now that was a deal she wasn't going to pass up. "Very well." She turned back to him, her expression softening. "My forgiveness is my payment to you. My life is no longer in your debt." She extended her hand towards him. He grinned and shook it firmly. If only all repayments were so simple and all men as stupid as him.

"Very good!" Gregor said happily. "Now Nyphurri and Gregor friends again!"

She raised an eyebrow. She didn't recall ever being friends with him to begin with. She didn't have a chance to reply, however, as she was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat. (That was the second time today that she was being interrupted during a conversation! Did these Shepherds know nothing of courtesy? Then again, she supposed she ought to have been grateful for the intrusion.) Turning around, they saw Frederick. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and he was standing straight at attention as if he was in court. The man truly did not know how to relax, or at least act like it.

"Sorry to interrupt," Frederick said, though he didn't sound very apologetic, "but I was was wondering if I could have a moment to speak with Nyphurri."

Nyphurri raised an eyebrow. What, was he going to yell at her for being a fool and having made a life-threatening mistake? Perhaps somehow skew it into how she had (with her Plegian arrogance, of course) placed the rest of the army in jeopardy?

Gregor, however, thought Frederick wanted to speak with Nyphurri for a whole other reason. "Nyphurri very popular today, no?" Gregor winked at her, nudging her in the side. "Nobody can resist pretty lady." Nyphurri's raised eyebrow only arched higher. "Be careful, Frederick," chuckled Gregor, clamping him on the shoulder as he walked past the knight. "Robin has eyes on her too." Frederick merely raised his eyebrows in response. He glanced questioningly at Nyphurri.

"Oh, will you stop that nonsense?" sighed Nyphurri, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I don't need you starting rumors." The last thing she wanted was for the rest of the army to think her a whore. She needed to gain their respect and trust, and Gregor's rumors were not going to aid her.

"Alright, alright. Gregor don't want to upset you again." With that, he waved goodbye, grinning cheekily all the while. An awkward silence fell between the assassin and the knight after he left. Frederick eyed the cloak around Nyphurri's shoulders curiously. She looked ridiculously Plegian in it (as if it hadn't been obvious enough already). In her usual black cloak, she looked more like an assassin, but in Robin's cloak Frederick had half a mind to think she was going to drop to her knees and pray to Grima.

Nyphurri, noticing the way Frederick was eying her curiously, defended herself. "Please don't take what Sir Gregor said seriously. There is nothing going on between Lord Robin and I." She certainly didn't need this knight getting the wrong impression and starting rumors either. "He only offered me his cloak because I was cold."

Frederick raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did she seriously think him so daft that he didn't know Gregor was jesting? He felt a slight scowl blemishing his features at the thought. "I am well aware of the fact that Gregor was only jesting," he replied, sounding annoyed even though he tried not to. "I realize there is nothing unprofessional going on between you and Robin."

Seeming equally annoyed by his attitude, she replied, "I was merely checking. I know how knights like to gossip; I did not want a false rumor to catch like wildlife." She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, as if daring him to challenge her.

His mouth dropped open of his own accord. He cursed himself for his idiotic reaction, however, when he saw her lips twitch at the sight of his expression. He quickly regained his composure. "We knights do not gossip!" he cried indignantly, his cheeks coloring like they did whenever he was mad or indignant.

Nyphurri raised an eyebrow doubtfully. Her eyes were alight with amusement. "Is that so? Then why is that whenever I pass by a knight on duty, he is gossiping with his counterpart like a school girl?"

"Perhaps that's how the knights in Plegia conduct themselves," countered Frederick, "but we Ylissan knights engage in no such activity." He felt satisfaction at the way her expression flickered with annoyance.

Her face was quickly smoothed into her usual mask. "Ah, begging your pardon, Sir Frederick," she chuckled. Frederick raised an eyebrow, wondering what she had up her sleeve. "You're correct; Ylissan knights are never on duty. You lot gossip at every fancy ball you attend – every day, then."

Frederick took a step towards her, his eyebrows knotted and his cheeks flushed. "We Ylissan knights are on duty every second of the day, even when we are officially off duty! I've yet to see a Plegian knight treat his post with the same devotion!"

"Because we Plegians have our dignity and self-respect," scoffed Nyphurri, sticking her nose in the air. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "We do not kiss and grovel at the ground our lords and ladies walk on. We have business to attend to. Of course," she added, "I see why you would not understand that. You Ylissan knights live lives as richly and extravagantly as your lords."

Frederick gaped at her. "We do not! We are honest, hard-working men! Though I understand that may be difficult for _you_ to understand," he countered defensively. "As it appears you've never worked an honest job before in your life."

Her eyes flashed angrily, and Frederick again felt a little smug, relishing her look of anger. That was what she got for trying to talk down on Ylissans and his work! And it was the truth, too – assassin or spy, whichever she truly was, her work consisted of lies and backstabbing. Even though Robin and Chrom may have accepted her, Frederick was still disgusted by her work and the pride she took in it.

He expected her to retaliate with cold words or to defend her profession and herself as she had done before. But instead, pulling up the hood of Robin's cloak over her face and shrouding herself in darkness, she said softly,

"Appearances can be deceiving."

Frederick raised his brows in surprise. Before he could come up with a reply, however, with a dramatic flourish of Robin's cloak she turned her back on him. Without even a backwards glance she stalked away from him and returned to the infirmary. Frederick stood rooted in place, staring after her retreating figure long after she had disappeared. It wasn't until he shook himself from his reverie did he realize that he had never apologized to her (for having allowed her to nearly drown), which had been the entire reason he had asked to speak with her to begin with. He sighed in frustration and marched off angrily, kicking at the floor as he went.

Great. Not only did he have to seek her out _again_ to actually apologize to her, but now it was going to be even more awkward. Robin and Chrom were not going to be happy with him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damned Plegian..."

* * *

 _ **Thoughts on the Chapter:**_ I _actually missed writing the Grimleal Council. It's interesting to add to the Plegian culture and dynamic and write moments you wouldn't see happening in the game. You know, I've always thought Chrom was stupid for just getting up and leaving Ylisse to chase after Walhart. Um, shouldn't you leave someone in charge...? Flavia and Basilio too. Their territory is huge, and yet they left the whole place without leadership! One of them should've stayed behind to look after their country! The irresponsibility of these leaders is beyond me. Whelp, that's Fire Emblem logic for you.  
_

 _It was super fun to write the banter between Frederick and Nyphurri. They're both so prideful and stubborn; they're bound to butt heads. It's funny, because when I originally wrote this chapter Frederick DID apologize to Nyphurri. But when I was editing it, the gears in my brain just started turning and so I came up with something different altogether! I gotta say, I like what I came up with a whole lot more than my original idea._

 _ **A/N: Advice, please?** I'm thinking about becoming a Beta Reader. It's essentially an editor, right? I'm thinking about becoming an Editor as a full-time job (I'm in a mid-college crisis right now, guys, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life) so this would be a good experience for me, I think. If there are any fellow Beta Readers out there who could offer insight into what exactly you do I'd really appreciate it if you could reach out to me. Thanks so much!_


	10. Princess of Chon'sin

Today was both a day of celebration and solemnity. The people of the Chon'sin kingdom gathered around the streets, looking skyward to the castle in the north. They stood behind the fences put up along the sidewalks. The Chon'sin people were not an extravagant lot, even when it came to occasions like these, but they did have a few decorations strewn along the streets in honor of the High Family. The town magistrate and priest, each dressed in his finest cloth, stood between a row of perfectly still knights, who could've been mistaken for statues had their eyes not been moving every which way. To the untrained eye, it may have looked like a parade was going to take place – although a solemn parade at that, judging by the hard faces many of the inhabitants wore.

In actuality, the people had gathered together in the capital of Chon'sin today for a very special reason: to send off the King and Queen and their army as they marched to war with Walhart. War was a dangerous, grave thing, and as much as the people supported their kingdom, they would not send off their army with cheers and claps. Instead, when the King and Queen arrived, they would send them off with the respect and dignity they deserved. With bowed heads and raised swords.

Unlike their people, however, the castle's inhabitants were far from composed. It was rare to see the castle in disarray like it was today. Men and women alike dashed through the castle levels.

"Are my breeches ready yet?!" demanded a soldier of a nearby maid. The maid shrieked when she saw that the man was wearing nothing but his loincloth beneath his fully dressed and armored torso.

The High Family were, thankfully, more put together. In the throne room they were gathered together, along with their most trusted retainers. The King and his Queen were dressed for war, though they were still clearly distinguished by the gold embellishments on their chests. Their children stood by their sides, both tall and proud, but one's face clouded with worry and another's impossible to read.

"I wish you would not look so worried," King Meng'shai said to his daughter, frowning. "You know this is what is best for our people."

Say'ri, who had been biting her tongue the entire time, could no longer hold back. "I do not see why you and Mother must be the ones to face Walhart!" she exclaimed, her words pouring out in a rush. "Yen'fay and I can handle that dastard!"

"Say'ri," admonished her mother, her elegant brows furrowing. "Do watch your language."

Yen'fay let out a short breath of air through his nose, and Say'ri glared at him. This was no time for laughing!

"We've already gone over this, Say'ri," Meng'shai sighed tiredly.

"Then let us go over it again!" she replied heatedly, her eyes sparking with fervor. "It would be best for everyone if you and Mother were the ones to stay in Chon'sin and Yen'fay and I to take on the assault. We are both younger and–"

"Inexperienced," concluded Queen Rey'lin. "Do not doubt your father and I just because we have aged since our last battle. We are far more experienced than both of you combined."

"But–"

"There is no room for debate, my child," Meng'shai interrupted firmly. Any commoner would've quavered under the reprimanding look the King sent his daughter. "There is no changing our minds on this matter."

Say'ri silenced, hanging her head in defeat. She'd known that her parents would not budge on this issue, as it had been planned for weeks in advance. Still, she had supposed it wouldn't hurt to try to reason with them one last time. A part of her knew, however, (though she wouldn't dare admit it aloud) that they were right. But how she wished they weren't. It frightened her to think that her parents would go to war. Although she certainly didn't doubt her parents' abilities and prowess, there was always that one question that hung over her head:

What if they never came back?

That, above all, was what scared her. She wanted to cling to her parents like she had when she was a child and stop them from leaving the castle. But Say'ri was a grown woman now. It was her responsibility as princess of Chon'sin to straighten her shoulders, put on a brave face, and take after her kingdom and people. During these troubled times were when the people needed their leaders the most.

Meng'shai softened and extended a hand to her, gently taking her by the chin to lift up her face. "Do not worry so much, my dear." He smiled gently – rare were such smiles from the King of Chon'sin, who could often silence a court by merely raising a brow. "Your mother and I are not going alone. We have our soldiers – our people – with us."

"And we have each other," pointed out Rey'lin. Smiling, she placed a hand upon her husband's arm. He smiled back at her and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Just like you have each other." She turned her piercing green eyes to her children, searching each of their eyes. "Can I count on you two to watch after one another?"

"Of course, Mother," Yen'fay replied softly, meeting her gaze steadily. His expression was, as usual, solemn. But there was a softness in his eyes. "I vow that I shall protect Say'ri, our kingdom, and our people." He rapped a fist against his chest. "Until my dying breath."

Say'ri bristled a little at the end of his statement, though neither of her parents appeared bothered by it. It was not uncommon for a Chon'sin to make such a vow. Rather, it might've been even expected given the situation. But it still made Say'ri slightly uncomfortable.

"You will make a fine king one day, my son," Meng'shai said proudly, placing a hand upon Yen'fay's shoulder. His eyes glistened with emotion. "I know you shall not disappoint us."

"I shall not fail you, Father," promised Yen'fay. "Nor you, Mother."

Rey'lin smiled broadly and ran her fingers through her son's hair lovingly. "We know you won't. You needn't tell us so."

"We will make you proud," Say'ri said. "This we vow." She looked at her brother. They met each other's eyes, and a silent moment of understanding passed between them.

"Ah, but my sweet," chuckled Meng'shai. "You already have." He smiled, crinkling the lines around his eyes.

Say'ri had been struggling to reign in her emotions for the past few days. She had been doing fairly well, too, treating the situation with as much respect and dignity as she could manage. But her father's words hit her hard, and she found herself blinded by emotion. Her eyes prickled, and to hide her tears she threw her arms around her father, burrowing her face against his chest.

"Promise me you'll come back home," she whispered. She felt like a child seeking reassurance, and she realized that she was doing just that. But she needed his reassurance, she needed to hear it from his lips. She could feel her brother's eyes on her, perhaps criticizing her for losing control of her emotions, but she no longer cared. A warm hand touched her back, and she took it to be her mother's.

Her father's warm arms enveloped her, holding her tightly. She had not embraced her father like this since she was but a young lass. She'd forgotten how protected she felt in them. "You have my word," her father replied softly.

And that was all she needed to hear.

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Her father, like any good Chon'sin man, was a man of his word. Come home he and his wife did. But they didn't come home on their steeds, tall and proud of their victory over Walhart. They didn't come home to cheering citizens and rolling drums. They came home quietly, escorted by a small infantry that must've been barely a seventh of the army that had left the kingdom a month ago. The Chon'sin people watched silently as the caskets rolled by in the streets.

"They fought bravely," recounted a soldier, as he got down on one knee in front of the remaining High Family. Say'ri was numb with grief and disbelief, while Yen'fay was as still and emotionless as stone. "It was the highest honor the Gods above could have bestowed upon me, to fight alongside them. And it is with the highest honor, and heaviest heart, that I offer you their swords."

He extended his arms. Two swords lay on them. They were glimmering brightly as if they had been forged yesterday. Yet they had seen centuries of blood and turmoil.

The two siblings stared at them silently. Yen'fay was the first to move. He appeared hesitant at first. The closer he drew to the sword, however, the more resolve he seemed to have. He firmly took his father's sword by the hilt and lifted it in the air. Breathlessly, he marveled at it. The insignia of the Chon'sin High Family, two crossed swords, was forever etched into the blade, close to the hilt. The sword had been passed down through their ancestors for centuries. Although invisible to the naked eye, years of history and linage were woven into the steel. Yen'fay could hear the spirits of his ancestors calling to him. They were whispers of encouragement, reminding him that he had a duty to uphold. It scared him beyond everything, this duty he had. But he knew what had to be done.

"And it is with heaviest heart, and highest honor," he said quietly, staring at the sword as if he was speaking to it, "that I take on the duties of king."

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Say'ri could feel the relationship between her and her brother deteriorating. The more she tried to speak with him, the more she tried to give him her advice, the more he seemed to pull away. Many days he would hide away in his room and never emerge. Say'ri was first concerned for him, as she knew that he must've been overwhelmed with his new-found responsibilities and wrought with silent despair from their parents' passing, but when the days turned into weeks she felt less remorse and more anger.

The people of Chon'sin were in an uproar. They demanded that Walhart pay for the deaths of their king and queen. Yen'fay appeased them at first, but they were growing impatient. They demanded action. They wanted vengeance.

And action Yen'fay did take. But not in the way anyone had expected or wished. When he announced that he would be taking sides with Walhart – with the very man that had killed his parents – the kingdom revolted. The Chon'sin people, who had always been peaceable, began to protest in the streets, demanding that the king be dethroned.

"We call for Princess Say'ri!" they cried. "Dethrone the King!"

Say'ri had no wish to dethrone her brother. As much as his announcement shocked her (she hadn't received any prior notice) she still had faith in him. All she needed was a moment alone with him, to reason with him. Immediately following his proclamation, she dashed through the castle in search of him. Every person she ran by called out to her, asking her if what her brother said was true, or if this was some cruel joke on his part.

"You know as well as I do," she replied to each of them, "my brother does not jest. I fear that the deaths of our parents have taken a toll on him and he is not thinking properly. Do not worry, I shall reason with him."

Say'ri did not think that her brother was in the right state of mind. Although he tried to hide it, she knew that the deaths of their parents hit as hard a toll on him as it had on her. There could be no other possible reason as to why he would side with Walhart.

She threw open the door of her brother's room, not even bothering to knock. He was pacing around his room, his head hung low in thought. He paused when he saw her crash in. His brows furrowed.

"Say'ri," he admonished. "You know better than to come into someone's room unannounced."

Of course he would act like nothing had happened. She felt like him shaking him out of fury. "This is not the time for civilities, brother!" she cried, stepping towards him. "Tell me, why is that you told our people that you are siding with Walhart?!"

He blinked at her. "I told them because it is the truth," he stated plainly. "Do you not wish for our people to know the truth?"

"It is not the truth, it cannot be!" Say'ri exclaimed heatedly, slicing through the air with her hand. She had always been the more animated of the two siblings. More than ever she was angered by Yen'fay's indifference. How could he stay so calm in light of what had happened?! "You cannot possibly be siding with a man who wants nothing but power and destruction, not the very same dastard who has slain our mother and father!"

At the mention of their parents, Yen'fay's face twitched. He turned his back to her and stared out the window. "I know this may be difficult for you to understand," he said slowly, weighing his words carefully, "but this is what's best for our people."

Say'ri shook her head, refusing to listen to him, refusing to believe him. "No. No. You cannot admit defeat, brother." She walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned back towards her. There was remorse in his eyes, of sadness and an inexplicable loss. She held onto his arms, staring him firmly in the eye. "If you think that this is the only option we have left, you are wrong. We will fight. We will prevail."

Yen'fay shook his head, pulling away from her. Again he hid his face from view. "It is such childish thinking that has gotten us to where we are today." His tone was bitter. His hand involuntarily curled into a fist. "We must either fight or join Walhart." His eyes flashed and he lifted his chin. His eyes were no longer remorseful, but cold and hard. "And I have made my decision."

Say'ri did not like the look in his eyes. She was beginning to feel uneasy. "I do not believe you," she replied, her voice shaking slightly. "I cannot." Her eyes searched his imploringly. "This is not who you are, Yen'fay."

He didn't reply immediately. There was a glimmer in his eyes, an indecipherable glimmer that was gone before Say'ri could understand it. Then his expression hardened. "I am King," he declared boldly, puffing out his chest. "My decision is final." His expression turned cold and hard like his eyes. He looked a decade older than he truly was.

Say'ri wheeled back as if he had struck her. She could not believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, and the conviction he spoke with. Her lips curled in disgust. This was the man she had once looked up to? She no longer recognized the man standing before her. Where was his dignity and honor? Although he had never been one to show his emotions, he had always had a silent nurturing side to him. But that part of him no longer seemed to exist. Their parents' death had changed him. He was now nothing more than a power-hungry dictator. That must've been why he wished to side with Walhart! He wanted to be Walhart's partner-in-dictatorship. Was her brother truly so foolish and gullible to believe that a man like Walhart would share his power? He would only use Yen'fay until he was no further use and would dispose of him just like he had disposed of their parents.

"I don't even know who you are anymore," she spat in disgust, glaring at her brother with the utmost contempt she could muster. She could no longer see him as the boy she had grown up tumbling in the castle gardens with. She saw nothing more than the darkness that was slowly consuming him.

"I am King of Chon'sin," he repeated darkly, taking a step towards her, brows furrowed. He seemed to tower over her even more than usual, his usually solemn face pulled into a tight glare. He looked menacing, and if Say'ri wasn't so angry she might've been scared. "I know my place. It is time you know yours."

A tense silence followed. Say'ri breathed hard.

"You are right," she said softly. Yen'fay's deadly expression twitched with surprise. "It is time I act as princess of Chon'sin and do my rightful duty." In a fluid movement, she drew her mother's sword and held it against her chest. Yen'fay's hand twitched towards his sword, but he did not draw it. Say'ri locked eyes with him. Her voice deadly soft, she declared,

"If it is war you want, brother, it is war you will get."

* * *

"So this is Valm." Chrom placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the land around him. As they were still in the port, it was difficult to tell just how different Valm was from the continent of Ylisse. But he could already tell by the appearances of the houses (they were smaller and humbler) that the culture and people were very different from that of Ylisse. He was surprised to see that the town wasn't overtaken by Walhart's soldiers. It seemed that they had made it in time to help the people of Valm and stop the Conqueror before he conquered too much.

"Is this your first time on this land, Chrom?" Flavia asked, her eyebrows raised. Chrom smiled and nodded. He shrugged sheepishly.

"I've been all over Ylisse, but I've yet to step foot in Valm." He paused. "That is, until now." He grinned and scratched the back of his head, taking in a deep breath of the salty sea air.

"Well, you're here now!" guffawed Basilio, slapping a hand onto Chrom's bare shoulder. "Soak in the Valmese air."

"I'm afraid we haven't time to soak in the air just yet." Frederick and Sully came galloping towards the Exalt and Khans. "In the town, milords. Valmese soldiers are hunting down two women."

"There's only two of 'em and some twenty of the dastards," Sully added. She grinned. "How 'bout we even the odds?"

Chrom grinned and unsheathed his Falchion. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

~-x-~-x-~

"The Shepherds!" cried a lieutenant, skidding to a halt before his commander. "Sir, the Shepherds are quickly gaining speed and heading towards town!"

"The Shepherds?" the commander replied doubtfully, raising a brow. "Are you sure it's them?"

The lieutenant nodded vigorously, breathing hard. "Aye, sir. I saw the Lord Exalt of the Ylissan Halidom himself leading them."

"Curses!" growled the commander. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He sighed and took a moment to compose himself. "Very well. Lead a handful of our best soldiers to kill that damn princess and her peasant servant. Bring me the rebel princess's head. Without her what little left of the Resistance there is will crumble." Even as he spoke, he began to ride forth to command his soldiers.

The lieutenant nodded dutifully. "Aye, sir." He quickly gathered up a small task force, and together the group continued their hunt of the Chon'sin princess.

"They're dispersing," Say'ri whispered in confusion as she watched the Valmese soldiers head in separate directions. "Why?"

"I think the more immediate question is, milady, how long we can hide behind these crates." Fet'mie blew a stray strand of black hair away from her face. She pet her horses's snout to reassure him that all was well.

"Have you a better hiding place?" Say'ri replied, raising a brow. She quickly pulled back, pressing her back against the crate. Fet'mie shook her head. "Then we stay here until we are found." She fingered the hilt of her sword, tracing the insignia of the High Family. "And we fight."

That was when they heard battle cries. There was the familiar sound of swords clanging and horses neighing.

"What in Naga's name is going on?" demanded Say'ri, peeking back around the crate. All she saw was a small group of soldiers searching high and low for her. She quickly retracted and turned to Fet'mie.

Fet'mie seemed just as puzzled and bewildered as her lady. She quickly shushed her horse, which, upon hearing the noises of battle, was getting anxious. "I know not, milady. I cannot see anything over this wall." She gestured to the wall on her right.

"If they are battling Walhart's soldiers, then they are not our enemies," Say'ri concluded. "Nor do we know if they are our friends."

"Ouch. That hurts, sweetheart."

Say'ri and Fet'mie's reactions were instant: Say'ri drew out her sword and Fet'mie locked an arrow into her bow. Startled, Fet'mie's horse reared its front legs and neighed.

"Reveal yourself!" demanded Say'ri, looking all around her but failing to see who had spoken and from where. Fet'mie appeared equally spooked, staring heavenward as if pondering if it was a God who had spoken.

They heard the sound of men shouting and horses galloping from afar. They had heard Fet'mie's horse and were now heading towards them.

"Look what you've done, Master Gaius!" This voice was different from the first; it belonged to a woman. Out of the shadows melted a woman who was darker than anybody Say'ri had ever laid eyes on. Say'ri tightened her grip on her sword, her suspicion heightened. "Now the enemy knows where we are." The dark woman glared accusingly at the man that emerged beside her.

"Hold your horses, Nyph." The man was, again, like nobody Say'ri or Fet'mie had seen before. He had bright orange hair, orange as the fruit that bloomed in the spring. He chuckled at his own joke. "You're too uptight for your own good."

"I'll show you just how uptight I can be," she muttered underneath her breath. In a blink of an eye she had reached out to her hips and was now twirling a pair of daggers in her hands. The man named Gaius smirked and unsheathed his sword.

"Don't move," Fet'mie demanded, staring hard at the two as she aimed her bow at the mysterious woman's head. "Or I'll shoot."

The galloping and shouts were drawing nearer. Say'ri wanted to glance over her shoulder to see how close the enemies were, but didn't dare look away from the two strangers in front of her. It was with a sinking heart that she realized she and Fet'mie were trapped.

The cloaked woman seemed impatient. "You've no need to aim that arrow at me, miss. We are on your side. We are members of the Shepherds." Gaius nodded in agreement.

"You lie," growled Fet'mie, narrowing her eyes at them. "You are Valmese spies."

Say'ri wasn't quite so sure, however. She had never seen a Valmese person with orange hair or skin as dark as the night. Their accents, too, were certainly not any accent of Valm she'd heard before. Gaius's accent sounded Ylissan, while she wasn't sure what Nyph's accent was.

Gaius looked affronted. Nyph, on the other hand, was finished with the conversation. "We've no time for this," she hissed. "Walhart's soldiers are approaching, and we're all going to suffer if you don't lower that bow and let us help you fight."

"Trust us." Gaius grinned and winked. "We're here to help."

Fet'mie hesitated, glancing at Say'ri. Say'ri looked at her, unsure. Before she could say anything, however, Gaius shouted,

"On your left!"

Say'ri turned in time to have blood splatter over her face as a dagger embedded itself into an enemy soldier's forehead. She was so shocked that all she could do was stand frozen. Her mouth fell open into a perfect little 'o'.

"Milady Say'ri!" cried Fet'mie, pulling Say'ri around so that she could take a look at her. She grimaced at the specks of blood covering her lady's face. "Are you alright?!"

"Did I not say we had no time for petty arguments?!" Nyph shouted angrily, pulling out another dagger from her waist as she ran forward. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Come, Master Gaius, we've work to do!"

Gaius grinned. "Coming, cupcake!" He dashed after her, winking at Say'ri and Fet'mie as he passed. Fet'mie stared after them, completely bewildered by the turn of events.

"Milady, what ought we do?"

Say'ri wiped the blood off her face with the back of her hand. Her expression grew solemn. "I know not if this Nyph and Gaius are who they say they are, but it appears we haven't a choice but to trust them for now. Be wary, Fet'mie. Do not inflict any harm on those two, but do not turn your back to them either."

Fet'mie nodded and mounted her horse. She traded her bow and arrow for the sword around her waist. "Aye, milady."

Say'ri took a deep breath. She nodded at Fet'mie, and a silent moment of understanding past between them. At the same time, the duo jumped out of their hiding spot behind the crate and, with raised swords and battle cries, welcomed the Valmese soldiers to Hell.

* * *

 _ **Thoughts on the chapter** : As you read, I added another OC to my story. I just realized that I've had quite a few so far. But like the others (such as the members of the Grimleal Council) she will not play a major part in my story, but is there to provide more of a realistic approach to the story. I mean, don't you think it's a little strange that the princess of Chon'sin would be fleeing from the Valmese all on her own? I intend on expanding the Resistance and taking a deeper look into it, just like I've done with the Grimleal and have done with Say'ri in this chapter. _

_Side note: Nyphurri's name is pronounced_ knife-urie _._ _You're supposed to roll the r's, but as you've read in my story only Plegians can pronounce her name correctly. Gaius's nickname for her, Nyph, is pronounced_ knife. _Short for Nyphurri._

 _ **Please review!** I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you. Until next time!_


	11. Apologies & Arguments

A rebellion was taking root in Valm. From all around the continent rebels joined together and formed small militias. They were furious with Walhart and even more furious with their leaders for not fighting back. Most rulers did disagree with Walhart's conquest, but they were hesitant about starting a war. Walhart's army was not only huge, it was extremely skilled. Even if all the countries were to join their armies' together, that might not have even been enough to conquer the Conqueror. So it was that the rulers of the countries debated over and over again the different strategies they could take on defeating Walhart. And slowly but surely the Resistance grew.

"We've no word of such a Resistance in Rosanne," frowned Virion. Say'ri and Fet'mie were seated in front a large campfire facing the Shepherds. They were recounting their tales and explaining the Resistance to the Ylissans.

"What does it matter, my lord?" Cherche said, her lips curling in amusement. "You wouldn't have joined anyway."

Virion gasped scandalously, a hand flying to his frilly shirt. "Cherche! How dare you make such an accusation of me?! Had I known that a Resistance was forming, I would've went running to the front lines!"

"Just like you went running when word of Walhart came?" she replied shrewdly. Virion scowled and didn't reply, glaring at her and folding his arms across his chest.

"Begging your pardon," Fet'mie said, "but you both are of Valm, then?" Since Rosanne was a small dukedom, she – nor Say'ri – had ever heard of it.

"Yes." Cherche nodded. "We hail from Rosanne. This here, believe it or not, is the Duke of Rosanne." Sully snickered at Cherche's choice of words while Virion rolled his eyes. "Or was. Before Walhart took over our land." The amusement died from her eyes.

"Walhart has taken over your land?" Say'ri asked sharply. She softened at the sullen nods she received in response. "I am sorry to hear that. But do not despair. We will take back our land. With the Shepherds' help, we have a chance to destroy Walhart once and for all." Her eyes roved around the camp, taking in each face. There was determination in every person's expression, and it reassured Say'ri that she had been in the right for seeking the Shepherds. Thank Naga for them. It would not be an easy feat, but with the help of her new comrades and that of the Resistance, along with – hopefully – the Voice of Naga, she had hope that she would prevail over her brother and Walhart. They had to. All the hopes of Valm – and soon enough Ylisse – depended on it.

Lon'qu had never seen a member of the High Family before. When they did come down from the castle to see their people, they only ever went to the capital. Never would someone of royalty step into the slums. It would muddy the gold on their boots. Lon'qu had never cared much for them. His existence was ignored by them, no less than the ordinary citizens that ignored the children covered in filthy rags, their bare feet black with dirt and grime. The High Family didn't care about him – why would he ever care for them?

The princess of Chon'sin was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. But the beauty went deeper than the surface of her skin. There was something within her that Lon'qu could sense. She was strong and determined, yet there was a sense of humility about her. He could feel her silent strength and pride, see it in her eyes. With her straight posture and piercing eyes, she was no doubt a born leader.

After her conversation with the army about the Resistance (oh, how those Ylissans had ogled at her in awe; she really was captivating) she was now speaking with her knight, Fet'mie. If Lon'qu didn't know any better, they were talking about him. They kept glancing his way. He pretended not to notice, staring into the depths of the campfire blankly. Then he heard footsteps approach him, and he looked up to see the duo stride towards him with purpose.

"May we sit here?" Say'ri asked him. She didn't smile much. He supposed he oughtn't have been surprised.

Given that the princess of his homeland was speaking to him, he probably should've said that he would be honored by her presence. Instead all he did was grunt and nod his head. Oh, how his fellow Chon'sin people would be disgraced by how he greeted their princess. He almost wanted to laugh at the looks of incredulity shared by Say'ri and Fet'mie. It looked like Fet'mie was about to scold him at any moment!

"Thank you," Say'ri replied, quickly regaining her composure. She sat beside him, and Fet'mie beside her. "We haven't been properly introduced. I am Say'ri." Although Lon'qu was well aware of that, he still appreciated her courtesy. Prideful though they were, rarely were Chon'sin rulers stuck up.

"And I Fet'mie," added her knight.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintances." Lon'qu bowed his head humbly. "I go by Lon'qu."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lon'qu." Say'ri nodded. "It does me good to see a man of Chon'sin in the Shepherds' ranks."

"Where from Chon'sin is it you hail?" questioned Fet'mie. Ah. So this was why they had been discussing him earlier.

"I hail from the south," replied Lon'qu. "I grew up in the outskirts of Somil'hay." He could already see it in their eyes that they knew he was poor. The north was where all the business was, while the south was rural. And Somil'hay, though a large city, was known for its crime and murder rates. "But it has been many a year since I have stepped foot in my homeland."

"I thought from your cloth you were of the south," Say'ri replied. She threw a look at Fet'mie, who pouted. She had thought that he was from the north. "And I see from your face and hear from our accent it is true too." The southern Chon'sin people slurred their words more than the northerners. The northerners, on the other hand, pronounced each word distinctively. It was the staple Chon'sin accent.

"You say that you haven't stepped foot in Chon'sin for years," frowned Fet'mie, her brows furrowing. "Where is it you live now?"

"Regna Ferox."

"Was our land not to your liking?" inquired Say'ri, frowning slightly. "It always interests me to learn why our people leave our land. We do try our best to keep our people happy, but sometimes we do not understand the true wants and needs of our people."

 _Perhaps you should leave your pristine white castle and visit the people in the slums. Then you'll have your answer._ Lon'qu cleared his throat. "Nay, milady, Chon'sin is and shall always be my home." He smiled softly at the thought of his homeland. Despite all the hardships he had endured there, it was...home. He loved Regna Ferox, but it just wasn't the same. "It holds a special sway in my heart. It was for personal reasons I left." His expression flickered uneasily and he looked away.

Say'ri was wise enough not to pry. "I see." She nodded and smiled after a moment. She had a nice smile that made her seem younger, more her age. "Chon'sin will always welcome you home with open arms." She studied his face. "We are always looking for soldiers in our castle."

"Especially handsome ones like you," giggled Fet'mie. Say'ri rolled her eyes and shook her head. Lon'qu raised an eyebrow, surprised by both Say'ri's suggestion and Fet'mie's flirtation. Chon'sin women were generally a quiet lot; rarely did they flirt. As for Say'ri's suggestion, the thought of working in a castle made him wish to laugh. He wouldn't have ever thought that he would be offered a position there; he'd never thought that he would make it out the ghettos alive! Yet here he was now, getting offered to work for the High Family by the princess herself. Funny how life worked out sometimes.

"Thank you, milady. I shall keep that in mind."

Say'ri smiled softly and nodded. "If you choose not to return, I understand." She stuck out her hand. "But for now, in this army, we will be working side-by-side, and as Chon'sin brothers and sisters we must support each other." Her eyes met his steadily, confidently. "Can I count on you, Lon'qu?"

Lon'qu stared at her hand. Then he clasped it. Not as a handshake, but as a promise. He maintained eye contact with her, despite how much he wished to look away. "Aye, milady. Until my dying breath."

She inhaled sharply. Her eyes flickered and the grip on his hand involuntarily tightened. A haunted look crossed her expression, as if she had seen a ghost. Lon'qu furrowed his brows in confusion, shifting uncomfortably. Had he said something wrong?

She snapped out of her reverie as quickly as she had gone into it. Immediately she released his hand as if burned and stood. She smiled tightly and refused to meet his eye. "I thank you for your support, Lon'qu. If you'll pardon me..." She leaped away, fleeing like a hunted deer, looking nothing like the calm and collected princess that had first approached him. Lon'qu stared after her, both confused and surprised. He turned towards Fet'mie, who was starting after her lady.

"Was it something I said?"

Fet'mie paused. Her expression was sympathetic. "Nay, Lon'qu, 'tis nothing you've done and nothing you could control. Milady is...she is emotional. Do forgive her. And forgive me, for I too must leave our conversation short. Good night." She smiled and nodded her goodbye before hurriedly chasing after Say'ri.

Lon'qu sighed, staring after their retreating figures. Women. No matter where they came from, they were all complicated.

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

It was while the camp was still alive and buzzing with chatter that Nyphurri stole away to her tent. After listening to Say'ri and Fet'mie's soliloquy (she liked the two, unsurprisingly – the Lady of Chon'sin was respectable and far more regal and formal than the Lord Exalt, a characteristic Nyphurri approved of. She knew there was always good reason she liked the Chon'sin people) on the growing Resistance in Valm, the Shepherds had broken apart from the campfire. She left at that moment, knowing everybody would be preoccupied with their conversations and wouldn't notice her absence.

She had not yet sent word to Validar about her progress in her mission. She'd been so busy integrating herself into the army that she hadn't had many moments alone. She'd purposely done so in order to avoid any suspicion. The more she exposed herself, the better. Even though she was never in the middle of the action or conversation, she always made sure that there was a witness that was aware of her presence. Half the time, however, the witness was Kellam, the huge knight that was as silent and meek as a mouse. He was a rather useless witness, since nobody ever noticed him. The poor fellow was always overlooked by the others. Of course, Nyphurri could sense his presence. He was quiet, but he could easily be spotted a mile away – the man was practically a walking tin can! The Shepherds were clearly as blind as they were naive. Nevertheless, the knight would've made a good spy. It was a shame his talent was wasted on his knighthood. She would never understand the so-called glory of that profession.

She sat on her cot, making herself comfortable. She pulled out her parchment and pressed it against the hard surface of the book she'd borrowed from Robin. Then she dipped her quill in the ink (being careful not to drip any of it on herself or on her cot) and began to write her letter to Validar. She was going to write to him as if she was writing to her brother, providing him with updates about her adventure. It was a simple ruse. Nobody would suspect that she was actually providing the King of Plegia with important information on the Shepherds.

 _7 October, 2611_

 _Dearest brother,_

 _I apologize for not sending word to you earlier. I have been very busy in the army. Mostly everyone has accepted me as a Shepherd. For the few that haven't, I will continue to try to earn their friendship and trust.  
_

She paused, wondering if she should mention it was because the army gave her a difficult time about her profession. She decided against the idea, knowing Validar would only be angry and admonish her for not pretending to be another profession.

 _We've landed on Valmese soil and head further inland. The Valmese soil is so very different from that of Plegia_ _– you must come and see for yourself when we finish this dastardly war._ She snickered, feeling rather like a child making up a tale. Again, she had to make it believable and create a story for her letter so it didn't sound like a simple update. _We are accompanied by Lady Say'ri of Chon'sin. Aye, THE Lady Say'ri. She is leading a Rebellion against Walhart_ _– and her brother, who sides with him. I wonder if Lady Say'ri would have it in heart to slay her own flesh and blood. I suppose we will find out soon enough._

 _She leads us toward the Mila Tree, home to the Voice of the Divine Dragon, Naga. We are hoping she_

She paused mid-sentence, having noticed the shadow outside her tent. "Nyphurri?" Frederick's voice called out for her. Curses. What did that damn knight want with her now?

She briefly gauged the situation. She could have him wait for her and quickly hide her letter and materials. But that would take time. He would grow suspicious and try to figure out why he had been kept waiting (knowing him, he would probably think she was hiding Risen underneath her cot). Or she could meet him outside instead of inviting him in. After all, wasn't it bad etiquette for a man to visit a woman at this hour? But then, again, he would think she was hiding something.

Having made up her mind two seconds after hearing Frederick call for her, she placed her quill down. "Come in."

Frederick entered, briefly offering her a glimpse of the dark camp beyond. He took all but a step inside, politely staying near the edge of the tent. His cunning eyes quickly swept the interior of her less-than-luxurious tent. Then his eyes landed on her and immediately took in her parchment and materials. His brows crinkled as he pursed his lips in thought.

Nyphurri pretended not to notice his blatant assessment of her quarters. "This is a pleasant surprise," she lied, smiling slightly. "I wasn't expecting company at this hour."

He blushed, realizing her subtle implication. Indeed, it wasn't very proper to visit a woman at this hour. Not alone. Then again, this was a time of war, not pleasantries. Given the context of their situation, his arrival wasn't particularly improper. Besides, she wasn't exactly making an effort to make herself presentable for him. She was still seated on her cot with her legs uncrossed in a most unladylike manner. Who was she to reprimand him? He bristled slightly in annoyance but bit back his tongue. Now was not the time to start another argument. "I hope I am not intruding."

"Not at all," she replied. Purposefully she did not mention her letter, wanting to both torment and test him. "Is there something you need from me?"

He held his hands behind his back and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy, but it had to be done. "I'm sorry," he deadpanned, cutting right to the chase.

It was almost worth the dent in his pride to see her utter look of surprise. "Sorry?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Sorry for what?" She didn't dare believe he was apologizing to her for not trusting her or for insulting her Plegian kin when they last spoke. If that were the case, it would've only been because his dearest Exalt Chrom had demanded him to apologize to her. The knight would lick horse dung if his master demanded it.

"I wanted to apologize for the mishap that occurred on the ship - when you jumped overboard, that is."

She frowned in confusion. "What is there to apologize for?"

Her genuine confusion struck a chord with Frederick. Was it not obvious to her? "It's partially my fault you almost drowned." Nyphurri raised her eyebrows but said nothing. "We were partnered together for that battle, yet I didn't look after your safety. You could've died because of my folly." There was guilt in his eyes, the same guilt Robin had looked at her with after her incident. Nyphurri found it strange that they both felt the heavy burden of responsibility when, in fact, it was neither of their faults to begin with. It had simply been a matter of human error and bad luck.

Frederick bowed, much to her surprise. She'd never imagined a Ylissan bowing to a Plegian, regardless of whether it was out of courtesy. "I am truly sorry for everything. I promise that I will be more alert from now on."

Nyphurri shook herself from her shock. She'd never imagined the knight apologizing to her. Then again, he wasn't apologizing to her for the rude words he'd said to her earlier, but because of the guilt he felt. At the end of the day, it was only about him. "No need for apologies," she replied politely, taking this as the opportune moment to strengthen their bond. "It was my fault for forgetting the fact that I couldn't swim." She shrugged. "I'd never even given it a second thought. We've no need to learn how to swim in Plegia."

"Understandably," Frederick smiled. He actually had a nice smile. It was a shame he didn't do it often enough. "But I must admit I still feel responsible for your injury. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you?"

 _How about you stop glaring daggers at me every chance you get and be as naive as all the others?_ "Nay," she chuckled. "Your apology is more than enough." She smiled genuinely, pleased by this turn of events. This was their first step towards trust and camaraderie. She knew this knight was a difficult one, but with time and patience she knew she could win him over. She wasn't the Master Spy of the Grimleal Council for nothing.

"If you insist." He tried to hide his relief. "I suppose I should let you carry on with the rest of your evening, then."

"Aye." Nyphurri picked up her quill. "I'm hoping to send this out first thing tomorrow morn." She did not elaborate, waiting for him to ask. She smirked inwardly at her triumph when he stood silent a few moments until his curiosity could bear it no longer.

"What is it you're sending out?" he asked innocently, trying to take a peek at the parchment she held. "A letter?"

"Aye," she said again. "To my brother."

She could already see the gears in his head churning, taking in this information and trying to make sense of it. "Your brother?" He tried to sound innocently curious.

She smirked in amusement, enjoying toying with the knight. Surely he must be struggling right now to decipher whether she was telling the truth or not. But did he not doubt every word that came out her mouth? "Does it surprise you I have one?" She paused, considering her next words. Then, unable to resist (she was already on a roll), she added, "Or did you think that assassins are born and raised in Hell, all alone with nothing to entertain ourselves with but daggers and demons?" She smirked slightly, cocking her head to the side all innocently.

Frederick raised his eyebrows at her audacity. He certainly hadn't been expecting the conversation to take a turn for the worse. Though he supposed it always did with her. "Of course not," he said, although only half-heartedly. Indeed, he'd never thought of assassins as having family or any sort of relations with anybody. He supposed he simply couldn't imagine a cold-hearted killer to have any sort of meaningful relationship. They only saw the people they killed as nothing but gold coins, after all; why would they view their family as anything other than something that would hold them back? "I...just never knew you had a brother," he finished lamely.

"You never asked," she retorted smartly, wearing that irritatingly cocky smirk. "But now I suppose it is my obligation to ask if you have any siblings," she said languidly. "Or any family, I suppose. My brother is the only family I have left, but what of you, Sir Frederick? Have you a wife? Children?"

He knew from her tone that she was mocking him and was clearly not interested whatsoever in his family history. But still he answered her, playing along. Perhaps he could gain some valuable information during their idle chat. He had already filed away the information about her brother and her dead parents (assuming she was telling him the truth, that was). "My parents are both back in Ylisse. I have no siblings or family of my own."

Of course not, Nyphurri thought shrewdly. What woman in her right mind would want to marry a man like him? "Oh? I'd have thought a man of your credentials would've found himself a nice wife by now."

Frederick harrumphed, unsure if she was implying that he was getting old or if she merely referring to his status as a knight. If she was implying the former, she had no right to speak! She was as old, if not older, than him! Women always married before men, usually in their early twenties or late teens, and here she was in her early thirties! Wasn't it time _she_ settled down? Then again, who would want to marry an assassin? She might kill you in the middle of the night and leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back! "And I'd have thought a woman of your age would've been married by now."

He recognized the slice of his retort when the tent suddenly went dead silent. He had a half a mind to apologize, but being stubborn and prideful as he was, refused.

Her expression darkened considerably, and judging by her thunderous expression Frederick thought that she might throw a dagger at him. But her expression smoothed itself back into its usual calm facade. Her eyes, however, were another story. They were still as stormy and dark as a storm at sea. Yet when she spoke, her voice was calm and quiet.

"Marriage isn't a priority when you're an assassin," she said softly. "I'm usually more preoccupied with finding shelter for the night or finding a scrap of food left out on the streets than finding a husband. What good will he do for me? What will he provide me with? A home? A family? No. I need no man to protect me or be my savior. I am responsible for myself, and myself alone. I will not die a lonely old maid. I will die strong and proud and independent. And I do not need anybody - let alone a _knight_ , and an unmarried one at that – tell me otherwise."

A long stretch of silence followed her declaration.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she said briskly, turning her back on him. "I have a letter to finish. It would do neither of us any good if you stay in my tent any longer. We are both unmarried after all, are we not?"

Frederick fidgeted, hesitating. It was only right he apologized for what he said. "Nyphurri, I–"

She raised a hand to silence him. Her hair acted as a curtain as it draped over her cloak; Frederick could not see the side of her face. "I do not want to hear any excuses or apologies. You are like your lord; ignorant and oblivious to the world around you." Frederick opened his mouth fiercely defend his lord, but she never allowed him the chance. "You think that I chose the life of an assassin? You think I grew up wishing to one day become the best assassin in the world?" She turned to him now, and he saw the spark and heat in her eyes. "No!" She threw down her quill and knocked over her bottle of ink as she suddenly stood. Her anger was clearly palpable; he could feel it permeating across the tent. The mask she often wore to cover her emotions was long since gone. The real Nyphurri was unveiled before him. "I too had dreams! I had aspirations! But Fate had other plans for me, and so it was I followed the path set for me. The life of an assassin chose me, not the other way around.

"But I not ashamed of my work. Nay, I am proud of it! While you knights and lords dilly dally all day long, it is we assassins who serve justice, not the so-called justice served in the courts of your corrupted officials!"

While she became increasingly passionate about her speech, she strode towards him so that by the end of her rant the two were practically nose-to-nose. Her chest was heaving up and down in exertion, and her eyes sparked like lightning.

"Now you wait just a second here!" Frederick started indignantly, pointing a finger in her face. "Our courts–"

"I have done enough waiting!" She shoved his finger out of her face, and if Frederick wasn't so angry himself he would've been appalled at her behavior. "I have worked hard to try to gain your trust, knight, but it seems as if I will never earn it!" She bared her teeth. "So long as the word 'assassin' is branded across my face, and 'Plegian' upon my wrists, you will never trust me!"

"That's not true!" he replied, though he wasn't sure he even believed himself. "It's because you've given me no reason to trust you!"

She scoffed and opened her mouth to retort, but instead it was a male voice that spoke.

"Is everything okay?" The flap of the tent was lifted to reveal a worried-looking Robin. "Olivia told me she overheard you two arguing..."

Nyphurri very well would've liked to inform this Olivia to mind her own damn business, but she held her tongue. She had already said too much. Unlike Chrom and Robin, her story did not seem to have much of an effect on Frederick. She hadn't received his sympathies during her rant, but rather his anger. Still, she did not regret exploding at him. It at least had further grounded her background and provided it with more realism. What was more real than the truth?

"We're fine," she said. Suddenly aware of how close she stood to Frederick, she stepped away. "I do hope our... _conversation_ "–Frederick's appeared half-amused at her word choice–"was not bothering anyone."

"Oh, no. We were just a little worried." Robin paused. "What's really going on, you two?" He stepped into the tent, looking from one to the other. He looked and sounded like a worried mother but held the authority of a father.

"We are simply trying to..." Frederick struggled to find the right words. "Understand our differences."

Nyphurri could not help but scoff.

"That's good," Robin said slowly, ignoring Nyphurri's scoff. "But maybe instead of shouting at each other, you can both sit down and talk this through calmly. Rationally." He smiled hopefully.

Nyphurri twitched irritably. She did not need to be talked down to like a child when Robin was clearly the child here! "Thank you for that, Lord Robin. But I believe I've had enough of this comrade therapy for one night." Her tone was sarcastic. "I'm afraid I need to ask both of you to kindly exit my tent."

Frederick seemed relieved. Robin, however, wasn't quite finished.

"I understand you're upset, Nyphurri," he said appeasingly, "but don't you think it best if you and Frederick resolve your issues now? I fear they will only grow worse if you ignore them until another day."

Unlike Robin, Nyphurri was finished with the conversation. Her tone was businesslike and final. "Our issues will never be resolved, so long as he does not stop doubting me because of who I am." Robin frowned at Frederick, who glared at Nyphurri, acting as if a child who had been told on. "With that, gentlemen, I bid you both good night."

And she blew out her candle before either of them could object.

* * *

 _ **Thoughts on the Chapter:**_ _Dang. An apology ended up leading to a huge argument that blew up in both Nyphurri and Frederick's faces! I've been wanting to address this whole "Frederick doubting Nyphurri because she's an assassin" thing for a while now. And voila! Nyphurri ended up exploding at him. I debated whether or not I should include this outburst, worrying it would make her OOC. Like I said before, I'm not used to writing characters like Nyphurri who keep their thoughts to themselves. But everybody has a breaking point, right? This was hers. Besides, I kinda needed to quicken up the pace of my plot - I'm already at Chapter 11, for crying out loud!  
_

 ** _Please review!_** _Thank you!_


	12. Lady of the Night

"What am I going to do with you?" sighed Robin. He folded his hands and placed them atop his desk, peering at Frederick. The knight scowled and sniffed indignantly.

"I think the question should be what you're going to do with _her_." His lips curled slightly and he glanced towards the tent flap warily, as if expecting Nyphurri to appear at any moment.

"Nyphurri hasn't done anything wrong," Chrom pointed out. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. He came to a stop to Frederick's right and leaned back against Robin's desk, folding his arms across his chest.

"Not yet she hasn't."

Robin sighed and shook his head. "That's your problem, Frederick. For every person you meet, you act as if they are guilty until proven innocent. You don't give people a chance – you just immediately assume. Now I understand," he added appeasingly when Frederick opened his mouth to furiously retort. "You do it to ensure Chrom and Lissa's safety. I respect that. But there comes a point when you need to let your guard down and learn to trust people. In most cases you do. You eventually see that our new recruits only mean well and you treat them as the comrades they are. But Nyphurri seems to be a special case." He paused. His voice grew soft and his expression pained as he murmured, "And it saddens me to see you treat our comrade differently just because she is a Plegian assassin."

"There's more to my distrust of her than just that," argued Frederick half-heartedly, his cheeks reddening out of shame. It was not easy being accused of discriminating against a Plegian from a Plegian.

Robin leaned back in his chair and spread his arms wide. "Then please. Explain." He raised his eyebrows, challenging Frederick to surprise him.

He hesitated. Then he straightened up, his eyes gleaming unabashedly. "I had a strange feeling since we first met her. It appears that she'd been spying on us that night we first met before making her presence known. Why pick the precise moment to save my lord's life instead of coming out earlier?"

"She probably didn't feel like it was her place," suggested Robin, shrugging. "She'd only stopped by to watch the battle because she'd been curious to see whether or not we were really in town. But when she saw that Chrom's life was in danger, she felt as if she could not hold back any longer."

"Kind of like Lucina," added Chrom.

Frederick considered this possibility for a moment. He supposed he could give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she'd never even wanted to join the army to begin with – it had taken some convincing from Chrom and Robin. As for Lucina, however, she had stayed in the background instead of the forefront in an attempt to change the future in a subtler way. It was a little different with Nyphurri's case. "Very well. Let's assume that's true. We still don't know anything about her," he huffed, raising his brows. "How do we know she's really an assassin-for-hire and not a spy?"

"Because I believe her." Chrom's response was as straightforward and to the point as always. He shrugged. "She told us of her struggles. Robin and I…when we first learned of her profession, we too were hesitant." He smiled sheepishly, and Robin also smiled in abashment. "We judged her before we knew her. We assumed she was greedy and heartless because she kills for money. Come, let us be honest: a contract killer is a very taboo profession that society finds disgraceful. But what do we know about the lives these people live? What do we know of their struggles? Nyphurri has opened my eyes to see that no, not all contract killers – or any other taboo professions, for that matter – are bad. There's more to them than the eye can see."

Frederick thought back to his argument with Nyphurri. He remembered how she had defended her profession heatedly and had offered him a glimpse into the struggles she faced as a contract killer. _I'm usually more preoccupied with finding shelter for the night or finding a scrap of food left out on the streets than finding a husband._ Perhaps those who killed for money were not as well off as was often believed. (Usually a contract killer conjured the image of bathing in a bathtub of gold, earned from the blood of others.) It seemed that she had struggled not only for acceptance but for her livelihood. It may have been why she scoffed down upon knights. It seemed she envied his lifestyle. Not that he lived an extravagant one as she so claimed...but still. It was certainly more extravagant than the one she lived. Perhaps the reason she took so much pride in her profession was because she had nothing else to be proud of.

"She has had enough trouble adjusting to this army because of the judgement that comes along with her profession," said Robin. "Obviously, she has experienced this for many years now, and is wary around people. Can you blame her for not being an open book? Gaining the trust of others is difficult for her. And when you distrust her and make her feel unwelcome, you make it even more difficult for her to in turn trust _us_." He put his hands together. "That is not a healthy relationship to have with a comrade whose life we are responsible for."

Frederick was silent. He couldn't believe it, but what Lord Chrom and Robin were saying actually made sense. It was very much possible that Nyphurri was a spy, but that could've been said of anybody in the army. Yet it was Nyphurri he gave such difficulty. And yes, in truth it was because of his prejudice towards her. He had a natural distrust of people, but displayed a special case of distrust towards Plegians and assassins. And a Plegian assassin? He doubted he trusted anybody less than people of that particular combination. In all honesty, she had done very little to give him reason to doubt her. She had saved Lord Chrom's life and had thus far participated in two battles. She had nearly lost her life in the first one yet continued to serve in the army when in fact she could've left afterwards, as could've been assumed about an assassin who cared only for herself. But Nyphurri wasn't a heartless killer. Lon'qu's story proved as much. Perhaps it truly was time for him to put aside his judgement and see her not as a Plegian spy but as the comrade she ought to be treated as.

He sighed and bowed his head. "Both of you are right. I do hold it against her that she is a Plegian and an assassin. But you're a Plegian, Robin, and you're the best thing that's happened to us." He smiled. Robin scoffed, waving the comment off, yet smiling all the same. "Tharja and Henry, too, are Plegian, yet they have proved nothing but helpful in our journey. I will… _try_ " – He struggled to speak – "to put my judgment aside and see her instead for the person she is. It is only fair that I offer her a chance."

Robin smiled widely. Chrom grinned and clamped a hand on his knight's shoulder. "Thank you, my old friend. That is all we ask of you. And who knows?" He winked. "You may find yourself surprised."

Frederick decided it was not the best time to remind them how much he hated surprises.

* * *

Gaius squinted at the gem in his hand, rolling it around in his fingers. In the light of the fire the blue gemstone turned a flaming orange. The gem was small but surprisingly heavy. It was as if the gem was as heavy as it was ancient. To think that such a small, seemingly insignificant ball was one piece of the puzzle in defeating Grima…

"Pretty, isn't it?" Lissa piped up beside him, eying the gem in wonder.

Gaius shrugged nonchalantly, rolling his lollipop to the other side of his mouth. "I've seen better." It was a lie, of course. There were few things of greater value than the orb he held in his hand now. Its value was not so much measured in terms of gold, but in its history and possible effect on the future.

Maribelle scoffed. "Oh, please. Do you realize what a priceless artifact it is that you hold in your hands? That gem has been around since the creation of our country! In fact, I'm afraid your dirty fingers will soil the purity of that gem!" She moved forward as if to snatch it out of his hands, but he held his arm back. He tutted at her.

"Careful, Twinkles. We wouldn't want you to drop and shatter this, now, would we? Because if that were to happen…" He grinned. "Well, we've got nobody else to blame for the end of the world but you." Maribelle gasped in horror and pulled away.

"Gaius!" reprimanded Lissa, smacking his arm. "That's not funny!"

Gaius rolled his eyes impatiently and put his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Apologies, dearest Princess. I was just kiddin'." He offered the gem to her. "Here. Take it back."

"We'd make quite a lot of profit off of that gem, you know," Anna piped up from his other side. Gaius could see her calculating its value in her head. Her eyes gleamed like the gold she so craved. Now here was a woman who was talking some sense! "Are you certain we need it to perform the Wakening?"

"Awakening," corrected Lissa, gently taking Azure from Gaius's palm. "And yes, I'm sure we need it. Tiki herself said so." She clutched it to her chest protectively. "I won't let you sell it, if that's what you're thinking!"

Anna pouted, leaning back. "You're no fun," she huffed. Gaius nodded in agreement. "Oh, well. At least the bark I took from the Mila Tree would make a good deal of gold…"

Lissa shook her head as if she had not heard correctly. "Bark from the…?" She gasped. "Anna! What did you do?!"

Nyphurri chuckled softly to herself as she watched the four banter. They had met the Voice of the Divine Dragon, Tiki, earlier that day. She had given Chrom a gemstone of the Fire Emblem, Azure, and with its addition they now had two out of the five gemstones. The five gemstones were needed in order to perform the Awakening, the ritual which would grant them the strength to defeat Grima. Now they headed toward Fort Steiger, where they would battle with the third division of Walhart's army. Nyphurri had quickly written another update to Validar. He would not be pleased to hear about the Fire Emblem. Nyphurri herself wasn't sure how she felt about the whole ordeal. Even though the purpose of the Grimleal Council (of which she was a part of) was, of course, to resurrect their Master, it was something she personally had never wanted. In fact, it was something she feared. It was a difficult dilemma she found herself faced with. Should she sabotage the Fire Emblem so that one of the gemstones went "missing"? Or should she not, leaving it up to Fate to decide whether or not their Master was resurrected?

"Is that the laugh of an angel I hear?" chirped Virion, interrupting Nyphurri's thoughts. Without an invitation he sat down beside her, offering her what he must've thought was a charming smile. "Yes, indeed, it is the Lady of the Night herself! Dark and deadly as the night, yet equally enchanting and mysterious…" He sighed wistfully, placing a hand upon his chest. "Such beauty ought to be a crime."

Nyphurri, who had dealt with Virion's flirting before, drew her lips in a tight line. The man never gave up, did he? He pranced about all day trying to bed every woman he laid eyes on! It was quite atrocious, really. Gaius, Gregor, Virion...it seemed that this army was filled with dishonorable men! Gaius and Gregor she had more patience for; the two only jested with her. Virion, on the other hand, was a whole other case. "I've committed quite a few crimes in my day," she replied slowly. "And I feel as if I may commit another one now." She fingered her daggers. Virion's eyes followed the movement uneasily. He chuckled unsurely.

"Ah, such rapier wit you have, my lady!" He pretended as if she hadn't threatened him. "Smarts and beauty? A most deadly combination."

"Deadly indeed," she mused, smirking slightly as she pulled out one of her daggers and casually twirled it around in her hand. Oh, how she enjoyed watching the fear flicker in his eyes. "Shall I show you just how deadly?" She raised an eyebrow.

All the color drained from the Duke's face. Nyphurri had to resist the urge to laugh. "Erm…actually…I think you ought to show our enemies on the battlefield tomorrow just how deadly you are! I shall see then your deadly prowess!"

"Do you not wish to experience for yourself firsthand?" she purred in a dangerous yet equally seductive tone, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Virion actually let out a little 'eep' of fear. He struggled to his feet. "I wish I could, milady, but I hear Cherche calling for me! I cannot ignore her cry of help! Please forgive me, my dearest Nyphurri. It is with greatest regret that I leave your lovely company!" When he ran off as quickly as he did, however, he seemed to regret it in the very least. Nyphurri smirked to herself. That would certainly get him off her tail for a while.

"If only Olivia was as brave as you, lass." She turned around to see Basilio watching her with a hand on his hip. It appears he'd watched the whole exchange between her and Virion. "She'd have that lad running for the hills in a heartbeat."

"Unfortunately, he always comes running back," she sighed. He laughed heartily.

"He's determined. I'll give him that." He took a seat beside her and took a swig of his drink. Nyphurri could smell the scent of rum when he lowered the tankard and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Did they really have the funds to buy such frivolous drinks? These soldiers were spoiled rotten! "I thought about intervening, but then you handled him all on your own. Good thing I stayed out of it, otherwise you might've showed _me_ just how deadly you are with that dagger!" His visible eye twinkled with good humor.

She laughed and stowed away the dagger. "I appreciate the thought, Khan, but as you could see I was capable of handling the situation myself."

His lips quirked up in amusement at her choice of words. "I could definitely see that, lassie. You've got a fire in you!" He winked. "It's no wonder the man was smitten with you."

"Sir Virion is smitten with every woman he lays eyes on," Nyphurri scoffed.

Basilio shrugged. "True. Not that I can blame the man. This army is filled with beautiful women!" He spread his arms wide and grinned when she rolled her eyes. "But women – and men, for this matter – are more than just their looks, I know. Take yourself, for example." She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You seem so cold and distant on the outside, yet I know you've got a good heart." He paused and sobered. His expression grew solemn and his voice soft. "Lon'qu told me what you did for him, lass. You're the reason he got out of the slums and found his way to me. Thank you. You've truly made a difference in his life, and I'm forever grateful for that."

Nyphurri blinked at him. At first she was surprised Lon'qu had told Basilio about her, but she realized it was no surprise. The man was practically a father to him. Lon'qu told him everything, she was sure. She smiled and shook her head. "You and him both act as if I have done something spectacular. I do not deserve the praise you shower me with. I did nothing more than give him some gold."

"Don't talk down on yourself like that." Basilio's voice was firm. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What you've done is something more than that. You offered Lon'qu a second chance at life. You offered those children something more than a life in the slums. You let them see that they are capable of being more." He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You gave them hope, Nyphurri. And that is something gold cannot buy."

She was silent, surprised by the genuineness in his eye and voice. She glanced over the fire to look at Lon'qu. He was quietly eating his dinner. She remembered the first time she'd seen him and the other children, wearing nothing but rags with faces so dirty it was hard to distinguish skin from grime. It was one of the few times in her life that she had felt sorry for anybody. There were naught but children. They still had the rest of their lives to live, yet it was likely they would starve to death before they turned of age. It was a sad reality. A part of her especially sympathized with them because she had seen a part of her reflected in them. They were outcasts, ignored and looked down upon society, just like her. Only they had no way out. And so it was she had offered them her sack of gold. She supposed she'd never thought of it as more than gold, however, until now. She could understand better why it was Lon'qu felt such an attachment to her.

She smiled slowly, returning her attention to Basilio. He grinned back at her. "I'm only glad I could help. It does me good to see how far Lon'qu has come since first I met him. I know I am not the only one who is responsible for his growth." Her eyes twinkled. "You have played a greater part in his life, Khan Basilio, by taking him under your wing. Thank you."

He guffawed, waving her comment off. "If you hadn't helped him first, he never would've made his way to me!" He softened after a moment, and he smiled when he looked at Lon'qu. "I'm proud of him, too. We both may have helped him, but at the end of the day it was his resolve and determination that got him where he is today." They both gazed at Lon'qu like proud parents, and quickly glanced away when he turned towards them curiously. Never one to be too sentimental, Basilio laughed, slapping Nyphurri good-naturedly on the shoulder. She grimaced and rubbed her shoulder. "Look at us! We act as if we're talking about our own son!"

"He _is_ as good as your son," Nyphurri pointed out. She smiled softly. "And it seems like you raised him right." Aside from his fear of women. But she doubted that had anything to do with Basilio's raising. As a matter of fact, if Basilio had any say in the way Lon'qu treated women, she was certain they'd have yet another Virion on their hands.

Something glistened in Basilio's eye. "Thank you, lass. That…" His voice cracked. "That means a lot to me." He sniffed and quickly glanced away. Nyphurri smiled despite herself. It seemed that even the mighty Feroxi were prone to emotions. "Anyways," he said gruffly, taking a swig from his tankard in an attempt to act more masculine, "That's all I wanted to say. Should you ever need anything, my door is always open." He clamped a hand on her shoulder with a smile on his lips and in his eye. "It's the least I can do for you."

She bowed her head. "I thank you kindly, Khan. I shall keep that in mind."

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "You're a good woman, Nyphurri. I look forward to continue working with you."

"I share your sentiment," she smiled. "I'd like to see for myself if the Feroxi are as tough as they claim to be." Nyphurri knew that, for the most part, the Feroxi did live up to their words. She had spent some time in Regna Ferox during her time of self-exile. In that land, acting macho was expected. If one showed any signs of weakness, they were laughed upon. The Feroxi were a prideful and stubborn lot. Their sense of pride was different from the Chon'sin. The Chon'sin prided themselves on their work and their traditions; their culture and history. The Feroxi, on the other hand, prided themselves on being able to take as many hits as possible. They _created_ a culture of competition and masculinity. It was more about personal pride than national pride.

He scoffed and pounded a fist against his chest. "I'll have you know that we are even mightier than the rumors say us to be!" He puffed out his bare chest all proudly. She laughed. "Don't laugh at me! I'm not joking!" He pouted when Nyphurri did not appear to take him seriously. "Say, how about I tell you the story about how I got this eye patch?" He pointed at said eye patch. "Perhaps then you'll see that we Feroxi are made of steel!"

Nyphurri leaned back in the grass, placing her hands behind her to steady herself. She stretched her legs languidly. She grinned. "Pray, do tell me about your daring adventure." Her tone was playful. "Let us see if you are a man of your word."

Basilio grinned at the challenge. He began the tale, which took place over twenty years ago. It was very apparent that he had told this story countless times; every word and gesture seemed practiced. A few others trickled in during the telling of his story, and soon enough they had a crowd of people sitting around them. Nyphurri was faintly amused. Everyone was acting like children listening to a bedtime story.

"Is the oaf telling you about how he lost his eye?" Flavia, passing by, had paused to listen to the story. "I've heard this story about a hundred times. He exaggerates it quite a bit, you know." Olivia giggled and blushed when heads turned to her.

Basilio, who had just begun to discuss his run in with a ten foot tall bear, paused in his story with a scowl. "Stay out of this, dastardly woman! I'll not have you ruining this tale!"

"Tell us, Flavia!" Nowi said excitedly, bouncing up and down. "Did Khan Basilio really wrestle a bear with his bare hands?!"

She scoffed. "I think not! The only thing this oaf can defeat with his bare hands is his dinner!" A few snickers and giggles went around the campfire, much to Basilio's dismay. Nyphurri was more amused with his banter with Flavia than the actual commentary. "How about I add some _truth_ into this story." She smirked as Basilio glared at her. "Now, as I remember it, the day Basilio lost his eye..."

Flavia and Basilio told their versions of their stories simultaneously, constantly interrupting and correcting each other. They were like quarreling siblings. Nyphurri thought the duo were rather amusing.

"Next time," Lon'qu, who had also joined the crowd and had seated himself beside her, muttered out the corner of his mouth, "Just ask me if you want to know anything about Basilio. Otherwise he'll go on forever." Though he sounded exasperated, his eyes twinkled with good nature.

She grinned and winked at him. "Duly noted."

The night passed by quickly, and by the end of their tale Chrom and Robin were calling everyone to bed. Nowi and Ricken pouted and complained like children being told by their parents to go to sleep. Nyphurri chuckled to herself. Lon'qu bid her goodnight before taking his leave.

"So, lass?" Basilio approached her, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Still think the rumors about us Feroxi are lies?"

She smirked at him as she got to her feet. "I'm afraid I can't say, my lord." Her eyes twinkled with amusement when Basilio's face fell. "You see, I do not take words at face value. I believe actions speak louder than words. As amazing as that story was, I'm afraid that's all it was: a story. Until you prove to me what you are truly capable of..." She shrugged. "I cannot say whether the Feroxi live up to their reputations."

Basilio guffawed, clamping a hand on her shoulder. "Fair enough! I'll show you tomorrow at Fort Steiger, then!" He grinned. "And then _I'll_ see whether or not you really have deadly skills with those daggers, or if you were just saying that to scare away poor Virion!"

Her eyes sparked at the challenge, and her smirk grew. "I suggest you rest well tonight, Khan. You'll need your energy tomorrow." She bid him goodnight and disappeared to her tent. Basilio grinned after her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. That lass was really something else. He liked her. Chuckling to himself, he shook his head and went to bed, excited for the battle that was to come tomorrow.

* * *

 _Hello everyone. It's been a while since I last updated, I know, and I apologize it's taken me so long. The semester has been pretty exhausting and busy and hectic - and I suppose that's no excuse, because we all live crazy lives - so I haven't had the chance to write until now (I'm on winter break.) Thank you all for your patience. I know this chapter is a bit of a filler chapter, but I really wanted a chance for Nyphurri to interact with some others and show that she's growing more comfortable around the Shepherds. As you read, she's starting to show more of her playful side. As for Frederick? Hopefully he'll follow through with his words and try harder to reach out to our dearest spy.  
_

 _I'm going to try to write out another chapter before break ends, but if not, I'll hopefully have a chance to by February. Until next time! Thank you, my readers!_


	13. The Resistance

There were quiet murmurs and the sound of parchment shuffling. Chairs squeaked as the men and women dressed in gold and silver took their seats around the table. The room was dark, as the blinds had been drawn shut and the doors locked. There were army men posted at the entrance and around the perimeters of the chamber. There was a sense of unease in the air while everyone situated themselves.

Bez'yao, the youngest dynast in North Chon'sin, took his seat at the head of the table. He cleared his throat. Although his expression was calm and collected, his eyes betrayed his anxiety. Although he had given speeches in front of crowds and nobles plenty of times before, never had he led a meeting in front of the heads of the various Valmese countries. He felt like a child in comparison to them.

"As you all know," he began after the murmurs had subsided, "I have called this meeting today to discuss with you the reports I have received with regards to Lady Say'ri and her companions." He paused, expecting somebody to speak up, but when nobody spoke he continued. "Her companions are the Shepherds, the Ylissan army led by the Lord Exalt of the Ylisstol kingdom. My intelligence reports tell me that they reached the Valmese ports a fortnight ago and have been aiding Lady Say'ri ever since."

"We have all heard the rumors." Lord Nik'wu's voice was gravelly and his lined face was in its usual stoic expression. His southern Chon'sin accent slurred all his words together. "Especially of their recent visit with Lady Tikki. The people are singing of her awakening – they say that this is a sign from Naga."

"And do you believe that?" Pledu, a Lady from North Chon'sin's neighboring country Celcium, asked dryly, arching a thick eyebrow. She was dressed more extravagantly than the Chon'sin dynasts, with her draping elbow sleeves and silver head ornament. Her long lavender hair was slicked back elegantly.

"I am not one for folklore, but…aye, I do believe it." Nik'wu nodded. "If Lady Tikki has honored these Shepherds with her presence, that surely must be a good omen."

Pledu seemed doubtful. "Forgive me, Lord Nik'wu, but I do not place as much faith as you do in 'signs from Naga'. I prefer facts that I can tangibly touch and see. And I do not see Lady Tikki using her divine powers to take down Walhart."

"I suggest you read up on your history, Lady Pledu." Lord Demio of Scarlet Plium (a small country between North and South Chon'sin) spoke in a rather condescending tone. "Lady Naga is the one who has divine powers – Lady Tikki only speaks on her behalf. Though, I suppose, that merits her some forms of divine power. But not the kind of which you speak."

The corner of Pledu's painted red lips curled wryly. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but I believe you meant to suggest that I read up on _folklore_ , not history," she replied calmly, arching an eyebrow at the stout man. His round face quickly colored. Nik'wu cut in before he could angrily retort. Bez'yao held in his sigh of relief. He was thankful the older dynast was there to help guide the meeting.

"This is not the time to argue about our religious beliefs." Nik'wu's tone was final. Pledu said nothing, her striking blue eyes on Demio as if in a silent challenge. The small lord sniffed indignantly and looked away from her. "We are here to discuss the implications of the Shepherds' arrival, are we not?" He glanced at Bez'yao for confirmation. The young lord, the attention drawn to him once more, replied earnestly.

"Aye, that is correct. Their arrival brings hope to our people, and to us." He glanced around the long table at the various faces that stared back at him. "For too long we have all cowered in Walhart's shadow. Lady Say'ri has bravely spoken out against him, and with her courage we have received aid." He took a deep breath, knowing what he would say next would cause outrage. "I believe it is time we join the Resistance and fight back against Walhart."

For the briefest of moments, there was utter silence. Then all at once the lords and ladies from various countries began to speak at once.

"He has an army of a million!"

"We will lose even more of our people if we are to declare war on Walhart!"

"This is a death wish! A sentence to the gallows!"

Nik'wu chuckled throatily. He leaned back in chair and folded his arms across his chest. For the first time Bez'yao saw a glimmer of amusement in the veteran's eyes. "You've just opened a Risen box, lad. You best put the lid back on it before you really lose control."

Bez'yao was certain Nik'wu could've brought silence to the table with the mere flick of his wrist, but it wasn't as easy for him. Although he had been the one to call for this meeting, few of his fellow nobles took him seriously because of his age.

"Please!" he shouted anxiously, standing up. "Please, settle down!"

"Settle down?!" Demio cried out, jumping up on his seat, his pudgy face contorted in anger. "How do you expect us to settle down when you've just suggested a death sentence?!"

"A death sentence would be to continue acting as Walhart's puppets." His cold tone brought the room to a chilling silence. "A death sentence would be to keep fooling ourselves into thinking that a dictator is what's best for our continent."

It was so silent in the chamber Bez'yao wondered if the others could hear this heart thumping hard.

"…This death sentence you speak of," Pledu replied quietly, her blue eyes fluttering to meet his dark green ones, "is nothing but your pride." Bez'yao bristled indignantly. "None of us here want a dictator to rule us all; we all agree on that." She glanced around the table and received nods and murmurs of agreement in reply. "But if we agree to his ruling – as we have done thus far – it keeps our people from harm. Sometimes we must hang up our pride for the sake of the greater good." She was tempted to add that it may have been difficult for him to understand, because he was Chon'sin, but wisely she kept her mouth closed.

"I understand your reasoning, Lady Pledu," Bez'yao replied after he had had a moment to compose his thoughts. "It is why all of us in this room have succumbed to Walhart. Despite all the meetings we've had, despite the many times Lady Say'ri had tried to convince us to fight back with her…in the end, we are still in this predicament today because we want what is best for our people.

"But is it really in the best interests of our people to leave their lives in the hands of a merciless tyrant?" A few of the lords fidgeted apprehensively. "All of us know how Walhart is. We know how terrible of a person he is. He is nothing but a power-hungry dictator who would stop at nothing until his hunger for power and domination is satisfied. He will walk through any obstacle and through any person to get his way.

"Now, if we voluntarily agree to give up our countries to him in order to create a 'united continent', as he likes to say, there is not supposed to be bloodshed. We give up our freedom in exchange for our lives. But then…" Bez'yao's green eyes flashed sadly as his voice softened. "Would we truly be living? We would be alive, perhaps, but we would no longer be living. I do not want my people to live every day in fear. I do not want to see them suffer. It is my duty as their lord to protect them and watch after them. If we continue to let Walhart have his way, we will ultimately be harming our people and, in the process, ourselves."

If he'd thought that the room was silent before, it was nothing like the silence with which he was greeted now. It permeated the air, thick and thoughtful. Some lords had their heads bowed down in thought; others kept glancing at each other as if trying to gauge one another's reactions. Pledu was scrutinizing him as if reassessing him.

To his surprise, it was Nik'wu that broke the silence. His gravelly tone was jolting to hear after such an extended period of silence. "You are young, Bez'yao, yet you speak with the wisdom of a man who is far older. But…" He trailed off. "You do not speak like a man who has seen wars and bloodshed." For a moment his eyes flickered darkly and a haunted expression swept over his features; Bez'yao could practically see the blood and turmoil that Nik'wu had seen reflected in his eyes. Then his face was stoic once more. "It is simple to say a noble speech; it is another thing to act on it."

"It was more than just a speech," Bez'yao argued heatedly. "If we all work together, we can take action and overthrow Walhart."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Pledu's voice was silky smooth. "As Lord Nik'wu commented, you are still young, I'm afraid, and you do not fully realize the implications of your so-called plan. We all wish we could overthrow Walhart – but how? I admire your hope and determination, truly, I do, but without some formation of a concrete plan nothing will ever happen."

Bez'yao was beginning to feel frustrated. He'd always known that the lords had thought less of him because of his age, but treating his age like it was an impediment was insulting! Why was it so difficult for them to understand the issues from his perspective?! "We already _have_ a plan in place. Did I not say that Say'ri has gained the aid of the Shepherds? All of us must band together and join their rebellion!"

"It is not so simple." Pledu's voice was cold now; it held none of the patience from before. "Do you suggest we abandon our countries and our people to fight in a war we have no chance of winning?"

"We can't just whip out our swords and charge at Walhart," Demio added. "Perhaps that is how the people of Chon'sin like to handle things, but it is not how we in Scarlet Plium do." He stuck up his nose haughtily. Bez'yao twitched irritably.

"Perhaps because the good people of Scarlet Plium do not know how to use a sword," Nik'wu replied, a tad bitingly. "The only thing they know how to use is their mouths. And even then," he added, smirking wickedly, "it usually only gets them into trouble."

Bez'yao was so surprised he didn't even think to laugh. Pledu, along with a few others, surprised as they were, pealed into laughter. Demio's round face turned so red he looked rather like a tomato. "How _dare_ you…!" he spluttered, raising a fat finger. "You best watch who you're speaking to, Nik'wu, else you might find yourself on the sharp end of a spear!"

The amusement died from the Chon'sin dyanst's eyes. His lips grew thin and his voice was dangerous as he asked, "Is that a threat, Demio?"

"Nay, 'tis a promise!" he replied heatedly, baring his teeth.

"Then perhaps," Nik'wu said slowly, standing up. "'Tis time you show me your skills in combat. Let us see if you truly do know how to handle a sword." He fingered the hilt of his own. All the color drained from Demio's face.

"Enough of this," Pledu snapped impatiently. "If you do not stop this childishness now, I will cut you both down myself." The two men glanced at each other like a pair of children who'd been caught by their mother. "Demio, you went too far by insulting the good people of Chon'sin and threatening your fellow lord. Nik'wu, I'm surprised to see you act like this. Usually you swat away Demio's insults away as if they are nothing more than flies. I expected more from you." She even sounded like a disappointed mother. Bez'yao bit his tongue to resist the urge to laugh. It was always quite the sight to see the older dynasts get lectured.

Nik'wu sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He sat back down. "You are right. My apologies. I lost my temper."

Pledu turned expectantly toward Demio. Grudgingly, the lord said, "And I am sorry for what I said. I too lost control of my temper."

"As you are too wont to do," muttered the lord to his right. Demio turned towards him quickly, but the lord coughed and feigned innocence.

"Now that that's settled," sighed Pledu, shifting around on her seat to find a more comfortable position. "Shall we continue?" She turned expectantly towards Bez'yao. He straightened, prepared to continue his argument to join the Resistance. It was going to be a long meeting.

* * *

Fort Steiger was a force to be reckoned with. Its walls seemed to extend into the sky itself. It was an intimidating structure, with its grand lookout posts and gloomy black gates that appeared to have been carved by an unnatural force of evil.

General Du'jao and his army waited for their scouts to return. The young recruits were uneasy and impatient; they walked around in circles with scowls on their youthful faces. Du'jao paid them no mind. His grey eyes were trained on the fort a mile ahead of them. Having been stationed in the fort many years back, he knew the terrain and interiors well. It was not as undefeatable as one would've imagined. Just like any fort, it had its weak spots.

A sudden hush fell among the group when the two scouts returned. Du'jao was pleased to see that they had been covert; he hadn't even noticed them until they came near. They were so far two of his best soldiers. Young as they were, they showed promise. One day they would make fine Commanders.

"General Du'jao, sir!" Kin'li put a fist to his chest in greeting. "We bring you news."

"Aye," said his counterpart, Seperna. She was not of Chon'sin, but Celcium, their neighboring country. "There are a number of lookouts on the posts and marching about the interior walls. There is a sense of unease in the air. Kin'li and I believe they are expecting an attack soon."

"Have you an idea how many soldiers they have?" Du'jao's voice was rough and gritty.

Seperna and Kin'li glanced at each other. "I'd wager around a hundred," replied Seperna. "But it's hard to tell, General. We didn't see the interiors, you see."

"I understand." He rubbed his white-whiskered chin thoughtfully. "Thank you both for scouting ahead. We needed this information." His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He began to pace around. "It seems that Lady Say'ri and the Shepherds have yet to arrive. We must decide whether we ought to wait for them or strike before them."

"I say we strike now!" said one of the recruits boldly. He was also of Celcium. "Begging your pardon, sir," he added, remembering his place. "But I see no point in waiting around. Should we not begin the assault now and make it easier for Lady Say'ri and her team once they arrive?"

"You see, soldier, the problem that we find ourselves in is that we do not know whether or not an army of our size can handle the size of the army within that fort." Du'jao paused in his pacing to squint out at the fort. "I do not wish to lose any of you in this attack simply because we could not hold out and wait for Lady Say'ri to arrive. If we put both of our forces together and then attack, we will suffer far less casualties, I'd imagine. She has an army of over a hundred, from what I hear. That doubles ours."

The recruit said nothing, mulling over these new revelations.

"But how will we know when Lady Say'ri arrives?" frowned Ken'li.

His question was answered when they heard the sound of battle cries off in the distance. Du'jao grinned. "It seems like our prayers have been answered! Quickly, everyone, we shall enter the fort from underground and take Walhart's puppets by surprise!"

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

That blasted Chon'sin wretch! If those damned soldiers had killed her at Valm Harbor, he wouldn't be facing the situation he was in now! Excellus's lips curled angrily as he watched the Shepherds take on Pheros's army. He'd heard tales of the might of the Ylissan army, and he saw it now as they advanced on the fort. Except he supposed he couldn't exactly call it a Ylissan army. There appeared to be some Feroxi and Chon'sin in the mix. What surprised him most, perhaps, were the two Dark Mages, both of whom were clearly Plegian. Why were they battling side by side with the Exalt of the country they so loathed? It was most curious.

"Sir Excellus!" a soldier came sprinting up to him, panting heavily. "We've news that there is movement underground! Another band of rebels are joining the fight!"

Excellus's eyes bulged, making him look like a toad. " _What_?! How have they penetrated the fort without our realizing it?!" He cursed and stomped a foot angrily. "Very well. I shall deal with them." He spun around and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, reappearing at the dungeons of the fort. He pressed himself against the wall and was silent. He could hear the patter of footsteps approaching. Then he drew himself to his full height and waited patiently until the rebels arrived. His lips curled into an amused smirk when the General came to a sudden halt before him. His lined face grew taut in surprise.

"Fie!" he shouted, pointing his drawn sword at Excellus. "Today is the day you meet your maker, fiend!"

Excellus laughed. "Actually, I have no intentions of meeting my maker any time soon. It is your wife and children who will soon be six feet under, General Du'jao, not me." He smirked widely when the General's face fell.

Then his face grew tight with anger. His grey eyes lit up like a fire. The scar that ran along the right side of his face almost appeared to pulsate with anger. "You dare threaten my family?!" he roared, stepping forward. He held a hand up to his troops, signaling them to stand back. Excellus could see that many of them were restless. They probably all wanted to barrel right through him and begin fighting. The bloodthirsty savages.

"I do," Excellus replied calmly. "In fact, I know the families of every member of your merry little band. It will not take me long to hunt each of them down and torture them until they beg for death. And I, being merciful, will of course grant their wish." His grin was wicked. Oh, how he loved to see the way the light died from his victims' eyes. It never failed to amuse him. And to think every word he uttered was a lie! Yet they were naïve enough to fall for his threat.

"You…you lie!" said one soldier, his voice shaking.

Excellus grinned terribly, amused by this pathetic attempt at bravery. "Would you like me to prove it to you?" The soldiers shifted uneasily. They were all young, and therefore even easier to sway. He could smell their fear. "I thought not. But fret not. We can make an arrangement." He licked his lips excitedly. "Your talent is wasted on this pitiful attempt at a rebellion. You could help us build an empire – an empire united under Walhart, all of us together as one Valmese nation. Do you not see what the future holds for us? Glory awaits, and it all begins when you support the empire!" He raised a clenched fist passionately.

The soldiers looked at each other unsurely. Was what this man said the truth? Had they been fighting for the wrong cause?

"…You dare suggest we betray our countries, our people?" Du'jao's voice was soft and deadly. He slowly began to close in on Excellus. "You think that Walhart will unite us? You're a fool, mage, as foolish as every coward who supports Walhart."

Excellus's lips curled in anger. "How dare you insult me?!" he growled. "I offer you and your family a chance to live, yet you blatantly disrespect me and my offer! Your pride will be the death of you, old man! And of your family!"

"A man is as good as dead when he forgets his values, when he does not stay true to himself." His voice carried through the chamber strong and true. It was having an effect on the soldiers; they bristled and stood taller, their eyes gleaming with pride. "We men of Chon'sin…we stay true to ourselves, to our countries, to our rulers, until our dying breath. I shall sooner take my own life than betray my Lady Say'ri.

"You see, fiend, you made a terrible miscalculation when you tried to threaten me." He smiled ruefully. "You did not realize that there are people who are willing to give up their lives for their country. That is what drives this Resistance. It is what drives myself and this army." There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the soldiers. Du'jao's inspirational words had reminded them why they had joined the Resistance. Walhart did not offer them freedom; nay, he offered them shackles.

"But your family–" attempted Excellus again, but Du'jao was quick to silence him.

"Is safe from harm's way. The words you speak are nothing but empty lies. Your promises offer us nothing but false hope. And death."

Excellus knew he was in deep trouble. Nothing he said now could sway the minds of Du'jao or his army. The blasted General had seen right through him! And now, as the army closed in on him, he knew he could not possibly attempt to take them all out on his own.

"You're a pitiful excuse for a man – or a woman?" A slight frown creased Du'jao's features. Excellus gasped furiously. "A human being," he decided. "And I will have no regrets taking your life."

When he raised his sword he was blasted off his feet by the force of Excellus's attack. He stumbled down into Ken'li's arms.

"You will regret the day you dare defied Excellus!" the sage cried in a shrill tone, his eyes alight with indignant fury. Then he twirled on the spot and disappeared in a cloud of smoke just as an arrow passed through it.

"What sorcery is this?!" cried Seperna, her eyes bulging. She rushed to the spot where her arrow had fallen. "He disappeared into thin air!" She moved her hands through the empty space Excellus had occupied only seconds before.

"He must have used a powerful dark magic." Du'jao regained his full height, turning to his army. "Let him flee like the coward he is. If there are any of you who wish to join him, now is your chance." Nobody moved. His soldiers stared back at him with determination gleaming in their eyes. Du'jao couldn't help but smile proudly. They were putting their lives on the line in the hope of not Walhart's demise, but for a new tomorrow. He thought of his family, of his newborn grandson he hadn't even met. It was for them, and for his country, that he fought. "Come, let us show these Ylissans how we men and women of Valm fight."

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Say'ri ducked the swing of an axe. Simultaneously she swung her sword upward, grimacing as she felt it cut through flesh and bone. The enemy axman wailed in pain and horror while Say'ri swiftly rolled over to her side, narrowly avoiding the falling axe and splattering of blood. She crinkled her nose at the sight of the dead, bloodied hand lying feet away from her.

Quickly she got to her feet. The axman paid her no mind; his horrified expression was glued to the bleeding lump that was once his hand. Say'ri swiftly completed her kill. The enemy had barely had time to lament the loss of his hand before his life, too, was taken from him. Pitifully Say'ri watched the man drop to the floor.

"It is a shame," she sighed, wiping the blood off her sword, "to kill a fellow Valmese. If only you had sided with us instead of Walhart."

Death was a part of war, she knew (she knew this all _too well_ , in fact), and war was necessary to fight back against evil, but it never made it an easier to take another's life. She had to constantly remind herself that the blood they shed on the battlefield was to avoid the blood on the streets.

"Lady Say'ri!" Her head turned towards the sound of her name. Fet'mie was riding towards her. There was something in her tone and the hurriedness of her galloping that alerted Say'ri. Quickly she moved towards her, meeting her halfway.

"What is it, Fet'mie?" she asked when her knight came to a skidding halt before her. Fet'mie was breathless and her hair was in disarray, but her eyes were glittering animatedly.

"I've received word from Lord Chrom," she gasped, a slight grin tugging at her lips, "that our reinforcements have arrived." She broke out in a full-out grin now. "Our brethren from the Resistance await your command!" She extended a hand towards her lady.

Say'ri grinned back. Here she'd been dreading bad news, but nay, this was fantastic news! "I knew they would not fail us!" After sheathing her sword, she took Fet'mie's outstretched hand and easily swung up behind her on her horse. Fet'mie quickly turned them around and headed towards the reinforcements. Soon enough they saw the army. Say'ri's heart leapt in excitement and pride to see her fellow Valmese-in-arms (as much as she was forever grateful for Chrom and his army of Ylissans, it just wasn't the same as fighting alongside her fellow Valmese, her kin). They gasped and murmured excitedly when they caught sight of Say'ri. Then, remembering their positions, quickly stood at attention and hailed her in greeting.

At the head of the forces was a familiar face. Although Du'jao had spent most of his life as a knight of Chon'sin, very little of that time had been spent under the roof of the castle – his specialty was in leading elite bands of knights on foreign missions – and Say'ri had known very little about him until they had joined forces for the Resistance. He had been one of the leading figures in the movement. He had not only led bands of armies, but he had helped recruit and retain them. Many nights they had stayed up together, formulating plans and strategies to take down Walhart and how to best use their forces. She may not have known him her whole life like some other military leaders she had grown up beside (Fet'mie, for instance, although no General, she had grown up with), but his dedication to the Resistance, as well as to Chon'sin and to her, had proved his worth to her. He was somebody she knew she could trust and depend on.

He had been speaking with Robin when Say'ri arrived. He smiled broadly upon catching sight of his Lady. "Lady Say'ri and Lady Fet'mie," he greeted, bowing deeply. "It does me good to see you both well."

Say'ri leaped down Fet'mie horse. She smiled warmly. "And I you." In a comradely yet warm gesture she placed a hand on his shoulder. "It has not been the same without you, my friend."

He bowed his head humbly. "I share the same sentiments, milady."

"I have done my best to keep milady from harm's way, as promised, General," Fet'mie chirped brightly. Her lips twitched slightly in amusement when Say'ri threw her a look. "Not that milady needed my assistance," she added duly, "as she is very capable of fending for herself."

Du'jao chuckled. "No truer words have been spoken, Fet'mie." His eyes twinkled in amusement. "Yet even Lady Say'ri needed a comrade to rely on, and you have indeed, as promised, returned her safe to us. I thank you for this."

Fet'mie's eyes sparkled with pride and she bowed her head respectfully at the compliment.

"Now." Du'jao suddenly became business-like. He practically commanded authority as he raised his chin, his eyes hardening. "We have much to discuss, milady, but we best save it for another time. We still have a battle we must help you end." He unsheathed his sword; the silver glinted in the light. He stared expectantly at Say'ri. "Your orders, milady?"

Say'ri couldn't help but smirk slightly. She turned towards Robin, who had, out of respect, stayed silent during the reunion. "I may be the leader of the Resistance, Du'jao, but under the Shepherds I am but a guest." She nodded at Robin. "It is Lord Robin who directs the army, and it is his commands you shall heed." She unsheathed her sword. "Tell us, Lord Tactician, what orders have you for us?"

It fell silent as every head turned expectantly towards him. Robin appeared uncomfortable to have so much weight and responsibility thrust upon him; he chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. Du'jao seemed surprised. He regained his composure a moment later, however, and nodded respectfully at Robin. If his Lady placed her trust in this man, then so did he.

Robin grinned after a moment, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

 _So much for completing this chapter before the end of winter break! I have struggled a lot with this chapter before finally coming to terms what I wanted out of it. I said in an earlier that I would dive deeper into the Resistance, and so I have. I always found it strange how the Valmese nobles suddenly got together and rebelled after Yen'fay's death, so I added some realism into the plot by making it more gradual. I also threw in some nobles from countries other than Chon'sin - these countries are never even mentioned in the game, I believe, but there's more to Valm than Chon'sin and the Dukedom of Roseanne!_

 _Also, Du'jao and his army are actually the rebel reinforcements that, in the game (Chapter 17, which is the chapter that corresponds to this one) betrayed Say'ri and instead fought against her instead of with her. As you read, I tweaked the chapter so that they didn't fall for Excellus's threats and instead stuck it through with Say'ri. This is a fairly minor change, but you'll soon see me changing the plot more and more as we go along. Some of it will be due to Nyphurri directly changing the plot for the story, some of it is just me disagreeing with the game's plot and changing it to make better sense. You can see some of my disapprovements echoed by Nyphurri's thoughts (for example, I thought it unrealistic that the two Khans would up and leave their entire kingdom so that they could go battle Walhart. Um, who's watching your people?) and I will attempt to put a more 'realistic' spin on the game plot. You've already seen these realistic spins through the Grimleal Council, the cultural differences between different nationalities, and just now from the Valmese meeting.  
_

 _Whew, that was a super long author's note. Thanks again for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing my story! Until next time!_


	14. Inoxerable Death

"Nyahaha! You can't run forever, my little friend!" Henry watched in amusement as an enemy myrmidon continuously dodged his attacks, looking rather like an erratic puppet whose puppeteer was still trying to master the art. He enjoyed battling living beings far more than battling Risen. People actually bled! And they were so much more unpredictable, too. It made the battle even more exciting! Unfortunately, his fun didn't last long, because a Flux attack that was not his slammed into the myrmidon. The myrmidon hit the ground and had barely lifted a finger when the next attack rendered him lifeless. Henry frowned and turned towards Tharja. She met his gaze coolly. "Hey! That was my kill!"

She scoffed. "You were taking too long. Don't you know you're not supposed to play with your food?"

Henry pouted. "I always play with my food before I eat it! It makes the meal more enjoyable!"

Tharja rolled her eyes impatiently and brushed passed him. "I have neither time nor desire to hear about your freakish fantasies."

"Like you're one to talk about freakish desires!" retorted Henry with a giggle. Tharja frowned at him in confusion. "You're the one with the unhealthy obsession with Robin!"

A light blush tinged the female mage's pale features. "The relationship I have with Robin is far from unhealthy," she huffed indignantly.

Henry laughed harder, much to her irritation. "Relationship? It seems a little one-sided, dontchya think?" He cocked his head to the side, his lips set in that damningly irritating smile. Tharja had half a mind to hex it off. "Because it seems to me Robin _avoids_ you as much as possible. Sorry to break it to yah, Tharja, but I don't think he feels the same way about you as you do about him." He didn't seem the least bit sorry, however, smiling still. Tharja wanted to smack him. How dare he spout such lies?! Her relationship with Robin was not one-sided!

"You are most certainly the last person in this army who ought to be offering me relationship advice," scoffed Tharja, her brows furrowing angrily. Her fingers flexed over her tome. "The only people you're involved with are the dead!" She paused and added as an afterthought, "And crows. But they're not even people!"

"That's because crows and animals are way nicer than people!" Henry pointed out with a raised finger, seeming to completely miss her insult. "Did I ever tell you about the wolf that raised me?"

"What?" She shook her head at the sudden change in topic, trying to gather her bearings. "No, I – urgh, stop distracting me, Henry!" she snapped angrily. "We're in the middle of a battle!" She gestured around her at the clanging of weapons and screams of pain. She hated being paired with Henry because he always made her lose track of her surroundings. She needed to find Robin after the battle and tell him to never pair the two up again. And while she was at it, perhaps she could manage to swipe a strand of Robin's hair…

"Oops!" giggled Henry. "Sorry! Let's save the story for another time, then!"

She grimaced. She was not looking forward to it. But at least it shut him up for now.

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Sully scowled and let out an irritated huff. That damned knight had off and disappeared again! How was it that a man dressed in ridiculously bulky armor could sashay his way around battles and become invisible to the eyes of both enemies and allies? She should've been able to see him a mile away! But, once again, she'd lost track of him. It could be a bit of a pain being paired with him in battles.

"Kellam!" she shouted impatiently. "Where did you go?!"

"I'm right here!" came a meek voice from somewhere. Just where, she had no idea. Up, down, right or left, she didn't see the knight anywhere. Perfect timing, too, since there were three enemies on horseback riding towards her now.

"I guess I'll have to do this myself." She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her lance. She ushered her steed forward, heading towards the man on the right. It was then that she saw he yielded a bow and arrow. She cursed her luck and made a tight turn, narrowly avoiding the arrow that had been aimed at her throat. Unfortunately, this sudden maneuver caused her to whirl into the horseman on the far left; she realized her mistake when she felt his sword slice through her side. She swore and quickly defended the next attack. The two other horsemen closed in on her and with a sinking heart she realized what a fool she'd been to think she could take them all on her own.

But she wasn't alone. A javelin whistled through the air and hit the middle horseman square in the chest. His armor took the damage, but he still reeled back in pain. Sully had never been happier to see Kellam before when she saw the knight seemingly materialize by her side.

"There you are!" she cried out as she dug her lance into the opponent's leg. "I've been looking all over for yah!"

"I've been here this entire time!" His voice was both indignant and wounded. He would never understand how people failed to notice his presence.

"Eh, no matter!" Sully replied, oblivious that she'd offended him. She grinned when the enemy she'd been battling fell, and she turned to quickly help Kellam take on the others. "You're here now, and that's what matters! Let's kick some Valmese ass!"

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Nyphurri cursed herself for not pairing up with Gaius and opening the chests in the fort with him. Aye, she would've given up some of her pride and pretend to be a thief for a day in order to get out of this Gods awful situation. She wasn't sure who she disliked most at the moment: Lord Robin, Vaike, or Panne. She was annoyed with Robin because she had placed her in this awful situation to begin with – who in Grima's name thought it would be good for a Warrior, Taguel, and assassin to fight side by side?! Perhaps she wouldn't have minded much if the Warrior wasn't as dim-witted and crass as the one she was paired with. Not to mention egotistical. The man referred to himself as 'Teach'. Clearly somebody needed to teach _him_ some manners.

As for the Taguel, if the fact that she was a Taguel wasn't enough, the beast had an attitude of superiority, as if she thought she was better than Nyphurri. Hah! Nyphurri would've liked to laugh in Panne's face. The Taguel was beneath her – she wasn't even human! Gods, she hated staring at the wretched beast. When she had transformed from her "human" form (if one could call it that) to her "beast" form (or natural state, as Nyphurri preferred to call it), Nyphurri had had half a mind to stick an arrow in her and call her supper for the night!

"Does my appearance displease you?" came a cool voice from Nyphurri's left. She gritted her teeth and faced Panne. The Taguel's eyes were as cool and calm as its voice. Not an emotion was betrayed.

 _Nay, your existence displeases me!_ "Whatever makes you say that?" Nyphurri asked instead, blatantly not answering the question.

"The look on your face," she said simply. "And your…aura. I can sense unease and anger from you whenever you look at me."

Hah! So it _could_ smell her dislike! "I know not what you mean." She forced a smile on her face. "If I've done anything to offend you, Lady Panne, please forgive me. I am not the best at expressing my emotions, you see, and so I may have insulted you somehow without even realizing it." She thought she answered quite diplomatically, with a reasonable excuse. She was feeling rather cocky until Panne blinked and deadpanned,

"You're lying."

The smile slipped off Nyphurri's face. A flash of impatience and anger passed through her eyes. Then she pulled another smile, though this time it was tight and one of warning. "Funny. You're the second person in this army who's accused me of being a liar." She recalled Frederick's distrusting eyes. "Pray tell, do you also believe all Plegians to be sadistic?" She again tried to divert Panne's attention into another conversation. Unlike the Warrior, however, she was not as simple-minded.

"It is not I who has an issue with you. I care not whether you are Plegian or Valmese; you humans are all the same to me." Nyphurri's lips drew into a thin line. She did not the like the way the Taguel referred to them as 'you humans'. She sounded as if she was talking about a species of animals (when in fact the only animal here was her). "It is you who has an issue with me. And you skirt around the issue, pretending to be ignorant. I am no fool. I'd rather you admit your hatred of Taguels than insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise." Her voice was hard now and her eyes dangerous. There was pride in the way she carried itself, with her high chin and straightened shoulders. She was not ashamed of being a Taguel, nay, but proud of her kind. (Though Nyphurri didn't understand what she could possibly be proud of. The Taguels have always been nothing but a nuisance, demanding equal rights as humans and initiating wars. If you asked her, they got what they deserved.) For the briefest of moments Nyphurri wondered if this was how she'd appeared to the Ylissan knight when she'd defended herself and her profession.

To her great relief, she did not have to reply to Panne. Vaike's scream of pain caught both of their attention. Panne was transforming into her beast form while Nyphurri dashed towards her injured comrade.

"Stay down, Vaike!" Nyphurri demanded, forgetting formalities in the heat of the moment. She flung one of her daggers at the enemy Hero, but because she'd shouted he'd seen her coming; he easily blocked the attack with his shield. She cursed herself. She should've known better than to give away her position. But the blasted Warrior had tried to stand up when half his arm was practically cut off!

The enemy moved forward to finish off Vaike, but when he saw Panne bounding towards him he quickly changed position. He raised his shield to meet Panne's claw as she brought it down towards him. The two began to circle each other, Panne's long ears twitching. Nyphurri thought it was best to leave the enemy up to her. She went running to Vaike's aid.

"It's fine," Vaike muttered when Nyphurri slid to a halt by him. She knelt to his level. "Just a li'l scratch…" Though his words were nonchalant, his breaths were ragged and his face was pale and sweaty.

His injury was certainly no scratch. His wrist was nearly severed from the rest of his arm; she could see the raw flesh and muscles struggling to stick together. Blood was heavily flowing from the wound, leaking all over the floor.

"We need a healer," she replied seriously. "My tonic will do you no good." She dragged him towards the wall, away from the fighting. She stood and glanced around unsurely. She wasn't sure where Lissa, Libra, or Maribelle were. And even if she did, she couldn't just leave Vaike lying here, completely vulnerable to attacks.

"…Up…there…" grunted Vaike. Nyphurri frowned at him. Was he hallucinating? Did he think Naga was descending from the Heavens to put his body into an eternal slumber? Certainly the injury was grave, but it was not a matter of life or death! "Cordelia…"

Nyphurri glanced up and saw not Naga but a Pegasus knight flying above them. She waved a hand in the air and shouted at her. "Cordelia!" She glanced back at Vaike to see if this was what he'd meant, and he nodded weakly at her.

Said Pegasus knight made her descent from the sky. She was a pretty lass, with long red hair that was held back by a rather stylish wing. Her face was surprisingly serious and solemn for one so young.

"Yes?" She regarded Nyphurri with a questioning raise of the brow.

"Sir Vaike has been injured." Nyphurri stepped aside so that Cordelia could see the Warrior sitting on the floor behind her. The Pegasus knight gasped. "We need you to send word to one of the healers immediately."

Cordelia, however, jumped down from her Pegasus and rummaged through her bag on its side. Nyphurri frowned. She hadn't seemed like the kind of woman to disobey orders, let alone when the situation was clearly dire.

"No need for that, Lady Nyphurri." Cordelia turned to face her with a healing staff in her hand. She offered Nyphurri a hurried yet charming smile as she rushed to Vaike's side. "You've got a healer right here." So she too had the power to heal.

"Begging your pardon," Nyphurri replied, realizing how rude she must've seemed. "I didn't know–"

Cordelia waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I'm still learning the ways of healing – I can barely call myself a healer! I will patch Vaike up to the best of my abilities, and then we'll have one of the more seasoned healers check up on him later. If you could just keep watch over us while I heal him, I would appreciate it."

"Of course."

She stood watch over the two. Panne was still battling the Hero. She seemed to have sustained a few injuries in the process; parts of her fur were covered in blood. Apparently he was quite the formidable foe. Nyphurri very well would've liked to test her skills with him. She twirled a dagger in her hand, wondering if she ought to try going for his back. It would be a risky move because he was moving about so much. She could accidentally hit Panne. But what did she care about the Taguel? This may have been her only choice to inflict harm on her and pretend that it was an accident. Brightened by her idea, she took aim at the Hero's spine in an attempt to paralyze him.

Then she suddenly turned to her right and threw her dagger at the Dark Mage who had been taking aim at her. Her dagger hit his spell book, causing his black ball of magic to vanish. He cursed at her in Valmese, but unfortunately for him, Nyphurri, having lived in Valm for a few years, knew a good amount of Valmese. Her expression darkened. But before she could release her wrath on him, his expression suddenly stiffened. He glanced down at the sword protruding from his chest. Then, when the sword was pulled back out of him, he hit the floor, a pool of blood forming around his lifeless form.

"That's no way to talk to a lady," Gaius tutted, shaking his head as he stared down at the life he'd just taken. "Really. He should've known better than that." He grinned charmingly at Nyphurri.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You know Valmese?"

He pursed his lips. "Didn't think I was so cultured, huh? I'll have you know, Nyph, there's more to me than meets the eye." He paused and added, "Though I know you seem to enjoy what you see, too." He winked and grinned mischievously.

Nyph was the nickname Gaius had dedicated to her, along with the occasional 'cupcake' (he usually only called her that when he was flirting with her or teasing). The man had a nickname for every person in the camp. Hers was simply a shortened version of her name, while others were named based off their personality or looks ("Blue" was about as unoriginal as it got). She supposed it was a sort of rite of passage into the Shepherds, at least from Gaius's perspective, so it didn't bother her much. Plus she preferred Nyph over cupcake anytime of the day.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. Though she did think Gaius was rather attractive, she would never admit it to him, jokingly or not. She decided to ignore his last comment and replied instead, "Forgive me. Not many Ylissans seem to know other languages, so I was surprised you could speak another." It was the truth. Ylissans were ignorant when it came to the customs and cultures of other nations; they were so caught up with their own affairs, arrogant as they were, that they failed to notice that there were people in the world aside from themselves. (Not that Plegians were much better.)

"But I'm not your average Ylissan, now, am I?" He grinned easily as he swept past her. "Like you, I've seen my fair share of the world." He winked. "Don't underestimate me, cupcake. I'm more cultured than you think."

"I don't think _cultured_ is the correct term," she teased. "It would be more accurate to say that you've been _arrested_ more often than I realized." That was why he had traveled to different lands, she was sure: to escape the authorities. He was a thief, after all. Thieves always had to be on the move if they didn't want to get caught. They were similar to assassins in that sense. An assassin-for-hire could never stay in one place for too long, lest they wanted to send themselves to an early grave.

He had the sense to appear offended. "It would be more accurate to say that I've _escaped_ arrest more often than you've realized," he corrected, tutting at her. "Probably more often than you," he added as a playful insult.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "You're probably right." She grinned at his look of surprise. "The authorities have rarely ever caught wind of me, so I've seldom had the need to escape from them with my tail between my legs like a frightened pup." _Or a Taguel._ Her lips curled up in amusement and her dark eyes glittered with humor.

"I do _not_ run away from them like a frightened pup," Gaius sniffed indignantly. "Come on an excavation with me one day, and I'll show you just how I do my job." He grinned. "Let's call it a date." He winked and laughed at her look of incredulity. Then he whisked himself away before she could vehemently reply. She sighed and rubbed her temple, shaking her head. Sometimes that thief gave her a headache.

"So you and Gaius, huh?" Vaike placed his arm on top of Nyphurri's shoulder. She jolted at the sudden contact. Then, upon regaining her senses, she scowled and shoved off his arm. It appeared that Cordelia had finished healing him; his arm was intact again. Now she was healing Panne. The Taguel had finally finished off the Hero.

Nyphurri gritted her teeth. "One more jest like that, Sir Vaike, and Lady Cordelia's work will be all for naught."

By the time Vaike fully understood her threat she had disappeared.

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

It had been many, many years since Du'jao had taken orders on the battlefield. For the past two decades, it had been he who had directed his militias to battle. It was strange taking orders again; he felt rather like a young knight on his first mission. Stranger still was taking orders from someone whom he had met less than an hour ago. Although he had first felt awkward and out of his element, when it came time to draw his sword and fight the blasted Valmese terrorists he quickly found his rhythm. During the battle, he also encountered and fought alongside other members of the Ylissan army. From what he'd gathered, they were all kind and good people. Not that it surprised him, of course; they had, after all, offered their aid to his Lady Say'ri and her people. But observing their kindness firsthand reassured him that Lady Say'ri had made the correct decision by asking for their help.

The Shepherds worked well together, as any army should. It was clear to him how much they trusted each other, and especially how much faith they placed in Lord Robin to direct them in battle. He was impressed by the lad. Despite his youth, he was a good commander and a skilled leader. There was something naturally trusting about him – whether it was his warm brown eyes or his soft smile, he seemed to put people at ease. Then there was Lord Chrom, fierce and bold, yet kind and understanding. The two seemed to balance each other very well. They made a good team.

He did notice, however, some characteristics of their party that bothered him. First and foremost, there was far too much informality. The Lord Tactician and Lord Exalt were referred to by their first names; their honorifics were ignored. In Chon'sin, titles and statuses were extremely important. He couldn't even imagine calling Lady Say'ri as Say'ri – it would've been an insult! In a similar train of thought, he also found it very odd that Lord Chrom was married to a commoner. Lady Sumia was very pretty and sweet, there was no doubt, and Du'jao was certain she was a good person, but at the end of the day she was a commoner. Though he knew little about the culture and customs of the Ylissan continent, he doubted it was the norm to marry someone of a lower status, especially when it came to royalty. He had never heard of a person of royalty marry for love. In Chon'sin – like other countries – one always married out of political purposes and to preserve the blood line. Love was not even considered. It was an added benefit, of course, if you ended up falling in love with your spouse. But that rarely ever happened. More often than not, it was a sort of platonic love the rulers would develop. The late King Meng'shai and Queen Rey'lin (Naga rest their souls) had been one of the few exceptions. Although they'd married for political purposes – in fact, their marriage was part of the reason Chon'sin had avoided another civil war – the two had ended up falling in love, and it was a well-known fact to the kingdom. But he had never heard of a situation like Lord Chrom and Lady Sumia's. The Ylissans certainly did have their peculiarities.

The battle soon came to an end, the Shepherds the victors. Du'jao stood by quietly as he listened to the lords and his Lady discuss their next steps. Lord Robin wanted to send a smaller force to meet Walhart in the north, while the rest of the army would continue south. The two Khans of Regna Ferox had volunteered to take on this mission. (The Feroxi really were as foolhardy as they'd been rumored to be.)

Du'jao could remain quiet no longer. He had to stop them before making these foolish plans concrete. He cleared his throat. "If I may, my lords?"

Robin smiled and nodded. "Yes, Du'jao?"

He ignored the informality with which Robin had addressed him. "I do not think it is a wise decision to send both Khans to meet Walhart. It seems…" He struggled to find the appropriate word. Tactless or reckless would be considered too offensive. "Risky."

"Risky?" scoffed Basilio. "Life is fraught with risk, my good man! We cannot live our lives in fear because we are afraid of a little risk!"

Du'jao would've liked to rub his eyes and sigh. Did the Khan not understand? Should both Khans fall in battle to Walhart, it would create a messy situation in their country. Why was it that he realized this implication but they could not? Perhaps, he thought shrewdly, they had had one too many knocks on the head. "That is not what I meant, Khan Basilio. I simply do not think it wise. Lest you have successors in mind, I would advise against this decision."

Lady Say'ri understood first, unsurprisingly, and she raised her eyebrows at Du'jao's rather bold implication. Then her brows furrowed thoughtfully.

"You have that little faith in us, do yah?" boomed Basilio once he understood what the Chon'sin was saying. "I'll have you know, I will not fall so easily in battle! No matter what your little future foreseer says," he added when Chrom opened his mouth.

Du'jao resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt as if he was talking to a child. Why must this man be so oblivious and stubborn?! "It is not that I have little faith in you, milord. I am merely putting all things into consideration and placing them into perspective."

"…He might have a point," Flavia admitted. Her shoulders sagged, ashamed of her admittance. Basilio did a double take, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Don't look at me like that, oaf!" she snapped, the fire returning to her eyes. "We must consider the consequences of our actions. They affect more than just ourselves – we have to think not only about the Shepherds but also our people."

Flavia, it seemed, was more levelheaded than Basilio. And hearing her answer seemed to pacify the one-eyed Khan. He grew silent in thought.

"If I may make a suggestion?" Du'jao asked softly. All heads turned towards him expectantly. "My army and I can accompany Khan Basilio to battle Walhart. This way, you still receive additional support, only from myself instead of Khan Flavia."

Another thoughtful silence followed. "I have to say, I prefer that idea over our initial one," Robin said. "You would also be able to provide an advantage because you are familiar with the landscape; you could guide Basilio better than Flavia could. We would still have Say'ri, so we've no worries on our end when we meet Yen'fay." Both Say'ri and Du'jao stiffened at the mention of the King's name.

"I agree." Chrom nodded. "I think it would be best if Flavia stays with us and Du'jao and Basilio head north."

Basilio clapped his hands together. "It's settled, then! Apologies for my earlier remarks, Du'jao." He grinned easily and clamped a hand on the General's shoulder. "I took it more personally than I should've."

Du'jao bowed his head. It seemed to him that Khan Basilio was quick to anger and quick to subdue. "There is no need for apologies, milord. I understand completely. We Chon'sin are a prideful lot ourselves." The corner of his lips curled upwards. Say'ri chuckled softly.

"At least that's one thing the Feroxi and Chon'sin seem to have in common," chortled Basilio. "Your plan is a good one, and I look forward to battling by your side. And besides," he added, elbowing Du'jao jokingly, "I would much rather have your company over this vixen's any day of the week." He stuck a thumb out towards Flavia's direction.

Flavia scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "I feel sorry for the General. He's going to have more trouble with you than Walhart!" Basilio scowled and fiercely retorted. The two continued to bicker with one another. Du'jao was rather amused. The two acted like rivaling siblings, always heckling one another. One would find it hard to believe that they competed for the throne on an annual basis. They were on far too friendly terms.

"Are you certain about this, Du'jao?" It was his Lady Say'ri who spoke, and there was concern in her voice, but not a trace of doubt. "You do not have to do this."

He smiled and bowed his head. It was so very like his Lady to be looking out for her people. Though it was not always obvious, she did have a soft, caring side to her. "Aye, milady, I am certain. We are in this war together, comrades united by a single cause, and so I shall aid in whatever manner I can." His smile softened. "Though I do regret that I cannot be by your side when you…" He struggled to the find the right phrasing. " _Make peace_ with your brother."

A torrent of emotions crossed her face. Obviously, she was conflicted with the battle that was to inevitably come. He pitied her – for who would want to ever raise her blade against her sibling? – and placed a hand gently upon her shoulder. Although she was and would always be his liege, his superior, he couldn't help but feel a fatherly protection towards her. Noble as may have been, she was still young. Too young to be burdened with all this responsibility. She didn't deserve any of it. Yet she'd pushed through all the pain and sacrifice without complaint. Aye, she may have been young, but she was a young woman who was capable of so very much. She was risking her life for the Resistance, for Valm, for Chon'sin, for her people. But now, as he saw a rare flicker of fear and unease in her eyes, he was reminded of her fragility.

"You are strong, milady," he murmured, "and I have no doubt you will make the right choice." His soft smile was a rare sight. His eyes crinkled warmly. He squeezed her shoulder gently.

Say'ri's heart clenched. He reminded her so very much of her father in that moment. "…Thank you, my friend." Her smile was small, but the hand she placed over his was warm. "It is a shame we have been reunited only to be separated again."

"Aye, a shame indeed," he agreed. "But worry not, milady." His smile was reassuring. "We shall see one another again soon. This I vow to you."

 _"Promise me you'll come back home."_

 _"You have my word."_

Say'ri shivered despite herself. She had heard one too many vows that had been broken in the past few months. Knowing he had seen the fear flicker across her face, she forced a smile on her face, trying to reassure him. "Until then, Du'jao, I wish you and your army the best of the luck with Walhart. May Naga bless your journey."

He took a step back and bowed deeply. "And She yours, milady."

* * *

 _Yup, another filler chapter. I'm not even sorry about it. A good chunk of this I actually wrote for the last chapter but I decided not to include it and focused solely on the Resistance instead. I didn't want to just get rid of this material so decided to just add in an additional chapter for the battle. Just a chance for some character interaction, with special focus on Nyphurri and Panne. Yes, Nyphurri discriminates against Panne, like most people would. Sorry to break it to you, but not everyone is going to treat a Taguel as kindly as the Shepherds do. It's a rough world out there.  
_

 _Thank you,_ Raffie13035 _, for your reviews as per usual, among my other readers as well! I have about half of the next chapter written out already but am not sure when I'm going to publish it. (Hey, don't look at me like that. I have final exams and papers to study for/work on!) Until next time!_


	15. Ghosts of the Past

_Her palms were so slick with sweat that the daggers nearly slipped from her grasp. Her mouth was dry and her heart was racing. There were few times in her life she'd been as scared as she was now. Memories flashed through her head. She remembered how much pain she'd endured during her initiation into the Council; she recalled her father's twisted face he flogged her half to death; she remembered the horror she'd felt when she'd heard Grima whispering in her ear when she'd first knelt at the Dragon's Table. And now, as she silently stepped out of the closet and raised her dagger to her unsuspecting target, she realized that for the first time she was scared not for her own life, but for the life she was going to take._

 _"Do not disappoint us," her mother had said to her the night before she'd left for her mission. "Your father and I expect you to execute this mission flawlessly."_

 _"It will be difficult, I am sure," Validar had said, pretending to be understanding. "But you will become a woman once you do this, Nyphurri. You will, once and for all, prove to this Council – and to our Master – that you are worth something."_

 _"Either you return having completed the mission, or you don't return at all," her father had said in his deadpan manner. "I will not have my daughter disgracing this family."_

 _She would not fail. She could not._

 _Tears filled her eyes as she raised her daggers. The first dagger met the man's neck while she drilled the other into his shoulder blade. He screamed out in surprise and whirled around, blindly thrashing his hands about. Blood was oozing down the hole in his neck and the wound in his shoulder._

" _I'm sorry…"_

 _Though her vision was blurred through her tears, she could still see the fear in his vivid green eyes._

" _You're naught but a child," he gasped weakly, staggering back. There was no longer fear in his eyes, but something that frightened her even more, an emotion she had never seen directed towards her: sympathy. He grimaced, reaching out towards her with a blood-covered hand. "You do not have to do this. There are…other…options…" He slid down the wall, breathing raggedly. "Naga…can…help…" He clutched the religious beads around his neck._

 _She shook her head, sending tears flying. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. She took a step towards him. "But my Destiny is bound with Master Grima. Naga can do me no good."_

"… _No…" the old man wheezed. He was having difficulty speaking now. "Your Destiny…is what…you make of…it…"_

 _He extended a shaking hand towards her. She stared at it. She realized she was faced with a choice. She could take his hand and leave behind the life she had lived for twelve years now, the only life she had ever known. Or she could cut him down where she stood, fulfilling her first solo mission and completing her first kill. She would finally be viewed not as Juwayr and Anidryl's child, but as Nyphurri, a true spy of the Grimleal Council._

" _I'm sorry," she said for the third and final time. This time, however, there was no remorse in her voice, and her eyes had grown hard. "But there is no rewriting my Destiny." And she raised her dagger, having made her choice long ago._

Nyphurri jolted awake shivering and covered in sweat. Gasping for breath, she flung the covers off herself and stumbled off her cot. She scrambled out of her tent and barely made it to a pair of nearby bushes before she was sick in them. When she was finished, she staggered away and placed her hands on her knees, trying to control her ragged breaths. She closed her eyes to try to calm her mind, but when she closed them all she could see was the old man's pleading green eyes, hear the squelching of flesh, feel the slippery blood, taste the bile in her throat. She opened her eyes and stood up straight, running her hands down her face.

It had been twenty years since she had murdered that Ylissan priest, yet she was still plagued by nightmares. Though they had become infrequent over the years, they never ceased to stop. Sometimes it was like the dream she'd just had; it was simply the memory replaying in her head. Other times it was different. She remembered one dream where the Ylissan priest had refused to die and had been screaming at length while she'd stabbed him repeatedly. Those were the ones that would leave her uneasy and unable to sleep for nights.

She heard movement and caught sight of a figure sitting towards the edge of the camp not too far from her. It took her a moment to recognize the figure as Miriel. She must've been on night duty. Silently Nyphurri ducked away. Instead of heading back to her tent, however, she headed towards the nearby river. The outdoors had always had a calming effect on her, and she certainly didn't want to go back to that stuffy tent and relive her nightmare once more.

The water flowed gently and slowly, and she could already feel her heartbeat slow down as she hunkered down to the grass. She pulled her knees to her chest. She stared out into the dark landscape, the beauty of which she appreciated. It was in darkness she felt most herself; it was where she could find solitude.

" _Do you remember what I told you about making friends?" She could hear her father's coarse voice but could not make out his equally unamiable face. For she was swallowed in darkness and could not make out anything._

" _N-not to make any." The seven-year-old winced, expecting him to strike her for stuttering. But nothing came. Only silence greeted her. "Because you can trust no one."_

" _That's right, my child." She thought she could hear a hint of pride in his voice. His voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "But there is_ one _friend whom you can always rely on, whom you must use to your advantage."_

 _She frowned in confusion. All her life she'd been told to keep to herself and be wary of enemies and comrades alike. Who was this friend her father was referring to?_

 _Then, suddenly, a flame leapt to life out of the darkness. She jumped in surprise but bit back her cry of surprise, knowing her father would not take kindly to it. She watched as the flame floated upwards. Then her father's bearded face came into view behind it._

" _Darkness," he murmured. "Darkness is your always on your side, as is the night." The flame was extinguished as suddenly as it'd appeared, and her father's face disappeared. "And you must learn how to not only use it to your advantage, but to be one with it. For we are assailants of the night. You are the darkness, Nyphurri, and you need no moon or stars to guide you." She glanced around herself in fear, not knowing where he'd gone off to. "You must allow your senses to guide you."_

 _She cried out when she felt the dagger on her throat. She quickly bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to keep the tears from falling down her eyes._

" _You were not using your senses," her father reprimanded softly. "If I'd been an enemy, you would be dead right now." She felt the cool steel of the dagger leave her skin. She still could not see or hear a thing. "But worry not, my child, for I will teach you all you need to know. One day, it will be you who wields the dagger against another; it will be you who has the power. Now, listen to the sound of my voice, and try to locate me…"_

It had taken her years to master the darkness. She had learned not to fight against it but to succumb to it; for you cannot conquer the darkness. No, you must become one with the darkness, let it swallow you whole and embrace it like a lover. Only then can you utilize its full potential.

Her parents had taught her nearly everything she knew about being a spy and an assassin. It had been her mother who had showed her the quickest way to kill a man; it had been her father who had taught her the ways of stealth and silence. They had been excellent teachers, but terrible parents. She had feared them terribly. She never knew when her father would reach for his whip or when her mother would strike her across the face. Over time, however, the punishments became less frequent; she had learned that the easiest way to avoid such punishments were to avoid mistakes and failure. And to never show her emotions or the pain she was in. She had mastered the ability to mask the expressions in her face. While most children were playing with wooden swords and dreaming of the day they would become knights, she was busy twirling daggers and learning the ways of a spy.

She doubted her parents had ever loved her. They had never treated her like a daughter. She had been nothing more to her parents than a mechanism to keep the bloodline of the Eighth alive. (She was their only child, and thus had even more pressure to perform perfectly.) They had trained her extensively on not only how to be a perfect spy, but on the inner workings of politics, the Grimleal Council, her Destiny, Master Grima…everything that was essential to her success. Which, looking back now, she found darkly amusing. She had betrayed the Grimleal and, even though she had eventually found her way back to Validar's grasp, the bloodline would die with her. She had absolutely no intentions of bearing any children of her own. She would be the last descendant of the Eighth member of the Grimleal Council.

She remembered the day she had been given the title of the Eighth. She had only been fourteen years old when she was told of her parents' death. She had only been fourteen years old when the weighty responsibility of being the Grimleal Council's sole spy and assassin was placed on her shoulders.

 _Nothing. She felt nothing. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. Was she supposed to be wrought with despair and agony? Was she supposed to be sobbing over the loss of her family? She felt nothing of the sort. She felt no remorse or sadness; not even a hint of grief. She wasn't sure if she was even capable of feeling. Hadn't her parents stomped that weakness out of her when she was young?_

 _She stared blankly into the fire that burned brightly in the chamber room; her eyes reflected the orange flames. The fire was a symbol of her parents' passing. Under normal circumstances, the fire would've been used to cremate their bodies. However, because their bodies had never been discovered, they'd only conjured the fire for ritualistic purposes._

 _The goat blood on Nyphurri's face was beginning to harden. There was one vertical line of blood down her forehead, two diagonal ones on each cheek, and one vertical one down her chin. The funeral had been different from most not only because there were no bodies, but also because half of it had been a ceremony. She had been named the Eighth of the Grimleal Council in place of her parents. She was now the Master Spy of Plegia._

 _The thought of the title made fear and panic rise in her chest. She didn't know how she was going to handle this responsibility. She was only fourteen years old! How was she expected to do any of this on her own?!_

 _She heard quiet footsteps approach her from behind. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. She couldn't have anybody see or sense her panic. She had to at least act like she knew what she was doing._

" _I am sorry, my dearest Nyphurri." She immediately recognized the voice to belong to Validar (though she'd figured as much by the sound of his footsteps). She didn't move or make any motion of acknowledgement, despite knowing how rude it was. (Her parents probably would've smacked her for her blatant disrespect.) Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched. His fingers were long and spidery and his touch was cold. Though he was trying to appear comforting, it only made her more uncomfortable._

 _Validar had always had an…unsettling effect on her. She didn't quite fear him, but thought he was rather intimidating. Unlike the other lords and council members, he had a calm and silent aura about him that radiated power and authority. Despite being young (at least relative to the Elders – the man was only thirty-five years old) he possessed authority and demanded respect. Of course, being the First of the Council aided him in this regard._

" _It is a shame you lost your parents at so young an age," he continued quietly. There was pity in his voice, but Nyphurri knew it was all for show. Validar did not care for her. "And now you must bear the responsibility of the Eighth…if there was anything I could do to ease your burden, my dear, I would."_

 _When Nyphurri spoke, her voice was raspy and cracked. She didn't realize she hadn't spoken in days until she opened her dry lips. "Do not apologize, my lord. For it is a burden I would've taken on sooner or later; I have simply taken it on sooner." Her lips twitched. Normally she would've smirked wryly but she couldn't muster the strength in herself to do so. "As for my parents…their deaths were naught but a consequence of their Fates, written in the stars long before their births. There was nothing that could've been done."_

 _A brief moment of silence ensued. "Young as you may be, you speak with the wisdom of – dare I say it – an Elder." She heard the smile in his voice. She could imagine how horrified the Elders would've been to hear his compliment. "Worry not, my dear Nyphurri, for we shall work together and help each other through these hard times." The hand on her shoulder squeezed her gently. "I daresay your parents would be proud of you."_

 _She doubted it. Even if her parents had lived to be a hundred, they never would've been proud of her, no matter what accomplishments she achieved. She would never live up to their expectations._

" _As am I."_

 _She inhaled sharply. It was the first time anybody had ever told her that they were proud of her. She felt tears prickle her eyes, and she felt like a foolish girl for being so touched by his praise._

 _She dipped her head respectfully. "Thank you, my lord." Her voice was thick with emotion. "I only hope that I do not disappoint them, you, or our Master Grima."_

 _She raised her eyes to meet his, and a shiver ran down her spine when she saw his smile. Despite its seemingly friendly nature, there was something…sinister about it. His voice was darker than it had been before when he replied, "Let us hope not."_

The sound of rustling cloth and footsteps shook her out of her reverie. Automatically her hands went to the dagger hidden in her boot, and she sharply glanced over her shoulder. She relaxed instantly when she saw a very disoriented Robin approach her. He didn't even seem to notice her. His face was pale and sweaty; he looked ill. And there was something off about his eyes. They appeared haunted and unfocused. He did not seem to be looking at what was in front of him but something far, far away.

"…Lord Robin," she called softly.

He jumped and spun around in a circle, glancing wildly about him. Nyphurri half-rose, her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

"Worry not, milord. 'Tis I, Nyphurri."

He spun around towards the source of the voice, and he relaxed once his eyes settled on the dark figure before him. It had taken his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark of the night. "Nyphurri." His voice was croaky. He cleared it. "You frightened me."

"Apologies, milord. I did not mean to surprise you."

He waved her off. "Don't apologize. It's my fault. My thoughts were…elsewhere." His eyes glazed over again. She was beginning to worry that he'd become delusional. Had the healers put him on some strange medicine?

"Are you alright?" she questioned slowly. "You do not seem…yourself."

He laughed sharply and rubbed his eyes. "No, I'm definitely not myself." He plopped down on the grass. A thought suddenly seemed to occur to him. "What brings you out here at so late an hour? You should be sleeping."

She found his concern both amusing and endearing. Even when he was half-awake he was looking out for the well-being of his comrades. Robin was a rare man. "Touché," she replied softly. "I could ask the same of you."

He smirked slightly. He seemed to relax slightly, looking more like himself. "I should've known better than to ask." He sighed and leaned back, planting his hands behind him and stretching his legs in front of him. "I'm out here for the same reason as you are. At least, I assume so."

Silence fell. She knew he was waiting for her to admit that she'd had a nightmare. But to be so open and vulnerable about such a private matter was something she did not feel comfortable doing. When she stared into his eyes, however, they seemed to see right through her. She sighed and hung her head. Perhaps this would be a good bonding opportunity for them. "…You are also trying to outrun your past?" Her smirk was devoid of humor.

"Not quite." His smirk was ironic. "I'm trying to outrun the future."

She frowned in confusion, her brows furrowing. Now the tactician was speaking in riddles. And here she thought she'd gained a solid footing with him.

"I have visions," he explained. He avoided her eyes and picked at the grass. "Visions that have plagued me ever since Chrom and Lissa found me in that field so long ago…" He smiled reminiscently. The smile quickly vanished, however, and was replaced by an uneasy frown. "This may sound strange to you, Nyphurri, but I have visions…" He hesitated. "Visions of the future." His eyes flickered to her. "I see what is to come."

She blinked at him. She wasn't sure whether she ought to dismiss his claims or take them seriously. She'd never been one to believe in sorcery or witchcraft; Seers included. For what was the use of Seers when your Fate was already pre-destined? There was no point in seeing the future when it was inevitably going to occur.

It was why she found it all very silly that Lucina had come from the future to change history. Aye, Lady Lucina, daughter of the Lord Exalt Chrom, future leader of the Halidom of Ylisse. The time travelling princess. At first, Nyphurri hadn't believed any of the time travelling nonsense. She had scoffed when she'd heard first caught wind of Lucina's story; she had thought it all to be some sort of ruse by Walhart to trick the naïve Shepherds. But then she'd seen the Brand of the Exalt in the lass's eyes, and she knew then that the tales Lucina told were true. There was no denying the Brand in her eyes, just like there was no denying the Mark on Lord Robin's hand.

But Lucina had wasted her time in coming back to the past – Nyphurri's present – to try to change the future. Fate was static. Destiny was pre-written. Only the stars above had the answers written out for you. The future could not be changed. Certainly, Lucina could make a few tweaks here and there, but in the end Fate would have Her way.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Robin's voice brought her back to the present. He was watching with her a wry smile. "I wouldn't quite say that," she replied slowly. "I am doubtful, not distrustful. After all, if Lady Lucina can warp through time, who am I to say that you cannot see the future?"

Robin seemed surprised, and then a little relieved. He stared down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. For the first time, she noticed he wasn't wearing his gloves. She could see his Mark faintly glowing purple. Her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen the Mark before. Not the real thing, not in person. She found that she could not look away from it; it seemed to beckon to her, whisper to her, seduce her to do Grima's bidding…

" _Bring him to me!" roared Validar. His cloak twirled dramatically as he turned, and his eyes burned ferociously into hers. Her eyes were wide in surprise; she had never seen Validar this angry – or even this animated – before. "Kill that wench whom I once called a wife, and bring Robin to me!" His hands curled into fists by his side, and she felt a wave of dark magic tingle through the air. If he didn't calm himself, he was going to bring the whole place down._

 _She was knelt on one knee before him, and she bowed her head. "Aye, milord."_

Robin caught her staring at his Mark. Self-consciously, he placed his other hand over it. Nyphurri shook herself from her trance.

Robin hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it. He did this many times before he finally gathered the courage to speak. Taking a deep breath, he said, "You know what this is, don't you?" With difficulty, he lifted his hand, showing her the Mark.

Nyphurri felt her mouth go dry. What could she say? She knew he was going to ask her questions, and she had to prepare herself for them. She had to answer honestly, but not too honestly; give him information, but not too much. No more than the average Plegian would know. "Aye," she whispered. Her eyes flickered to it before quickly glancing away. She feared the power it had over her.

A long moment of silence fell between them. Nyphurri waited with bated breath. "I've done some research into it myself," Robin admitted quietly. "This Mark…it means…" His voice trailed off. Nyphurri realized he must've known exactly what it meant. She had to come up with an excuse. Fast. She couldn't have him telling the whole army that he was Grima's vessel. But based off the hesitance he was approaching this situation, it seemed to her that he had kept this hidden to himself. It was only because she was Plegian – and thus had more insight into his Mark and its meaning – that he was even speaking to her about this. Henry and Tharja were Plegian too, but they weren't exactly the type you approached about these concerns.

"It does not necessarily mean you are Grima's vessel," she said slowly. Robin's head snapped towards her, his brown eyes wide. She wasn't sure if it was because of what she'd said ("Grima's vessel") or the implications of her words. "Many Grimleal have the Mark."

Robin's brows furrowed in confusion. "But I read that…" He didn't seem too certain anymore.

She smiled and shook her head. "Books do not always tell the whole story. Aye, the Destined One is the one who has the Mark; it is through His or Her body that Grima can be resurrected. But many Grimleal Mark themselves to show their dedication to the Master and the Cause." She hesitated for a second before continuing, "I have one myself."

Robin's eyes grew wider. He glanced at her hands, as if expecting to see one there. She smiled and lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers. "Nay, not on my hands. I have one on my back."

Robin struggled to digest this new information. There was a flicker of hope in his eyes, but he was wrestling with much confusion and conflict. "So how…what…?"

"Only the most devoted Grimleal get themselves Marked. I do not identify as a Grimleal. However, my parents were very devoted Grimleal, and so it was that I was Marked as a babe." She wondered if she was revealing too much information. Everything she spoke was the truth. She had a tattoo of Grima's Mark on her back; all members of the Grimleal Council had to get Marked to show their devotion to their Master. Except her Mark – like everybody else's except Robin's – did not glow purple. It was black like the ink that had been carved into her skin. The Destined One was born with the Mark; that was what distinguished Him from the others. He had a natural connection to Grima.

This new information seemed to bring much relief to Robin. He visibly relaxed. "So I'm not Grima's vessel, then." He practically melted back into the grass, spreading his arms wide and staring up at the sky. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Nyphurri said nothing. Of course Robin had looked into the Mark on his hand and figured out the implications of it. She shouldn't have been surprised. But now that he didn't think he was the Destined One, it should provide Validar with an advantage. He now had the element of surprise when he used Robin's body to resurrect Grima. Robin would not be able to fight back against it because he would not know any better.

His brows crinkled after a few moments, once his bliss had worn off. Another revelation appeared to have occurred to him, and it seemed to bother him. "Does this mean that I was a Grimleal in my past life?" He seemed to speaking more to himself than to her.

Indeed you were, she thought shrewdly, before your mother took you from your crib and stole away into the night.

 _Nyphurri had always thought that two made a very handsome – though somewhat odd – pair. They were both very tall and graceful, holding a silent air of authority and regality about them. Yet, when they stood side-by-side, one would think they were of different nationalities. There was Validar, dark-skinned with jet black hair, and there was Marjuwa, pale with a shocking shade of white-blonde hair._

" _We have fantastic news." Validar was practically beaming; he was barely containing himself. Nyphurri had never seen him so happy before. After pausing for dramatic emphasis, he announced, "Marjuwa is pregnant."_

 _Marjuwa was his second wife. His first had died giving child birth, and the child had died with her. Now it was in Marjuwa's belly that the hope for the vessel of Grima would come to save them all._

 _Immediately there were cries of congratulations and blessings and prayers. Nyphurri was silent, watching Validar and Marjuwa carefully. Validar was glowing but Marjuwa…there was something forced in her smile, something uneasy in her eyes._

She smiled at Robin. His eyes were the same soft brown ones his mother had. "What does it matter who you were in your past life?" she asked softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise; he appeared to have forgotten she was there, so caught up in his thoughts he was. "What matters is who you are now and how you choose to act. There is no point in dwelling on the past, let alone one you cannot remember."

This was the truth with which Nyphurri had lived by since her betrayal and self-exile. She'd shed her title and Grimleal background; she'd rid herself of the horrors she'd had to endure. To others, all she was was an assassin-for-hire. Not a former Grimleal on the run for her life after failing her mission. In the end, though, her past had caught up to her. There'd been no outrunning it.

He seemed surprised that she was capable of such wisdom. With his innocent, doe-eyed eyes, she was reminded of how young and naive he was. "You're right. You're right!" he said it again, truly believing it. He smiled softly. "Had I known of the wonderful advice you could offer me, Nyphurri, I would've come to you long ago."

"Why, milord," she said, pretending to sound surprised, "you know you can always come to me whenever you deem it necessary. I shall always be there to help and support you."

She knew by the beaming smile he offered her that she had gained his unequivocal trust. He'd always been trusting of her, as he was of everyone, but now she had gained his loyalty too. She could practically do anything under his nose and he would let it go. She didn't have to worry about pleasing the rest of the army. All she needed was Robin's graces, for he could easily sway the others. His word was supreme.

"Thank you, Nyphurri," he replied genuinely. "It is not that I never felt comfortable around you, it's just that…well…this is not an easy topic for me." He shrugged sheepishly.

"Understandably." She nodded. "And I doubt any of the Ylissans would understand, even if you were to tell them. They do not share the same culture and stories that you and I share." She paused and added, "Though I hope this conversation stays between us, and only us." She didn't need him blabbing to the others about any of this information which could be of use to them.

"Oh, no," he chuckled. "I won't say a word. This is between you and me, Nyphurri. Nobody else." He smiled reassuringly, and she returned the smile. "And you're right. The others...they wouldn't understand." He hesitated. "I've always thought that if I were to tell anyone…they would fear me. Judge me." He twiddled with his fingers uncomfortably. "See me as something different." Although he was embarrassed to admit his feelings, it seemed to lift a great burden from his shoulders. Even as he spoke, he visibly relaxed.

"Ah," she said softly, her lips curling upwards, "now you know what it feels like to be an assassin-for-hire." Robin's eyebrows rose. His expression quickly became guilty and sympathetic. She stood abruptly before he could say anything. "Now, if you'll excuse me, milord, I'm going to try to get in a few more hours' of sleep. I suggest you do the same. We have a long day of marching ahead of us."

"Nyphurri, I–" Robin quickly tried to scramble to his feet. She raised a hand placatingly. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Do not fret over it. I've just placed things into perspective for you, 'tis all." She shrugged nonchalantly. She knew she'd been a tad harsher on Robin with her last comments then need be; he'd already accepted who she was. Yet she found she had been unable to resist. She had struggled with feeling like an outsider her whole life, and here was Robin crying to her about how the Ylissans would judge him. (And from what she knew of them she knew they would never hold any of this against him.) "I am glad you felt comfortable enough to reveal to me all that you did tonight. Know that I shall never judge you, Lord Robin, for we Plegian brothers and sisters must always stick together." Her smile hardened. "For if we don't look out for another, who will?"

* * *

 _I've been writing on this site for six years now, and this is the quickest I've ever updated a chapter. EVER. 18 hours, people! After publishing Chapter 14 I was still itching to write so I ended up writing this whole chapter right afterwards. I feel like my energy kinda drained out towards the end, so sorry if it's not 100%. I'm still gonna publish it anyway. Now I'm a little tired and don't want to dissect all that's happened here...that's what you guys can do for me! See you next chapter!_


	16. For the Greater Good

Thunder rumbled overhead and a brilliant streak of white flashed across the dark sky. The rain was pouring down relentlessly, but not quite as relentlessly as the blood that rained down upon the battlefield.

"Khan Basilio!" Du'jao shouted hoarsely. "To your right!"

The West Khan swung his axe around to meet the blade of his enemy, and in another foul swing cut off the enemy's head.

One enemy down, Du'jao thought grimly as he wiped away the rain and blood from his forehead, hundreds more to go. Even with Basilio's men and Du'jao's army, their numbers were naught in comparison to Walhart's army. Granted, they were more skilled than Walhart's men, but the skill was not enough to make up for their lack of numbers. They were losing men and women left and right. Du'jao had only just passed Seperna – may Naga bring her peace – lying dead on the ground. The eyes that had once been so determined and ambitious were now empty and void of life. It had stung Du'jao, but only for a moment. Fighting for Chon'sin for as many years as he had, he had lost more friends and comrades than he could name. The death of another was such a regular occurrence in his life that it no longer pained him as it once had. Still, it hadn't stopped him from taking a moment to stop and utter a prayer for her underneath his breath. She had been the one to bring in Celcium recruits and had played a vital role in leading the army and the Resistance. It was a pity she hadn't been able to see it to the end.

Du'jao was beginning to despair. They stood no chance against Walhart's army. They couldn't keep fighting like this – if they continued, death was certain. For a moment he pondered upon Lady Say'ri and the Shepherds. How were they holding their ground against King Yen'fay? He prayed that his distraction had proved useful to them and that they would prevail against the King of Chon'sin. Du'jao knew that failure was inevitable for him and his army – whether it be retreat or death, it was all up to his Lady Say'ri and her newfound companions to keep the Resistance moving forward.

"RETREAT!" His roar was lost in the wind and the sound of thunder rumbling overhead. He wished he had a flag of some sort he could use as a signal. He glanced around himself helplessly, hoping to spot a comrade. Instead of a familiar face, however, he was faced with a looming figure on a horse. The figure seemed to emerge from the darkness of the demons themselves as he descended from the small mound he'd been standing upon and towards Du'jao. The Chon'sin General tensed immediately, tightening the grip on his sword and steeling his gaze. It was his years of experience that kept his hand steady; otherwise, he may have dropped his sword out of shock.

Out of the darkness emerged none other than Walhart the Conquerer himself. Du'jao had never laid eyes on him before, yet he knew instantly that it was him. Nobody else could command attention and fear like the beast of the man that stood before him. The rain made it seem like his red armor was his very body bleeding. But nay, barely a spot of blood blemished him or his steed; only his blooded lance showed any sign that he had partook in the battle himself. His eyes were blank and devoid of any emotion; they almost seemed unseeing. Yet Du'jao felt like he was peering into his very soul. He looked like Death assessing his latest victim.

"You command this army?" His deep and bellowing voice matched his stature. Any lesser man would've cowered, but Du'jao stood strong and true, never lowering his gaze or weapon.

"I am General Du'jao of Chon'sin," he replied evenly. "I lead this army."

"So you are part of the Resistance." Amusement mingled the cur's voice. "Why is that you oppose me when your King supports me?"

"He is no King of mine," sneered Du'jao, baring his teeth. "My allegiance is to my land and my people. All you and Ki – Yen'fay have done is drive them to despair. And death."

"Death?" scoffed Walhart. "The blood is on your hands, not mine. It is you who resists, yet it is your people who will be punished. Such unnecessary bloodshed could all be avoided, if only you accept my rule."

"Fie!" Du'jao jumped into a fighting stance, ignoring his aching muscles and broken ribs. "I would sooner bow to Death than to you!"

Walhart's expression darkened. "I'm afraid, my good man, that we are one and the same."

And as he charged forth, the deadly dance of death began.

~x-~-x-~-x-~

"Khan Basilio!" Basilio turned to see one of Du'jao's men, Kin'li, running towards him. The lad was bleeding quite profusely from his side, and Basilio feared that he would not make it. They'd already lost too many good men in this battle; they could not afford to lose another, especially not one as skilled and capable as him.

"Use this, lad!" Basilio tossed him his last vulnerary. "We don't need another dead man on our hands!"

"Precisely why I've come to you!" Kin'li skidded to a halt, panting heavily. He refused the vulnerary, shoving it back at Basilio and mumbling about how it would better serve him. "We've lost too many of our own. We must retreat."

"Retreat?!" roared Basilio indignantly, pressing the vulnerary against Kin'li's side despite his protest. "We men of Regna Feroxi do not turn our tails and flee our battles! No, we fight until the very end, whether that means death for us or for the enemy!"

"As we Chon'sin are wont to do," Kin'li replied pacifyingly, "But now is it not the time to worry about our egos, Khan. It is more important we save the lives that we can and return to the battlefield for another day. We will not be doing ourselves or the people that depend on us a favor by getting ourselves killed. There is no way around it, sir," he continued when Basilio opened his mouth to protest. "We are greatly outnumbered; we have more dead than we do living. Surely you cannot tell me that you would put your pride above the lives of our good men and women."

Basilio sighed in defeat and nodded. "You're a smart lad – you'll make a fine Commander one day. A better one than me, no doubt." He winked at him, but his expression quickly grew grave. "Come along, now, we must alert the others of our retreat."

~x-~-x-~-x-~

"Foolish man." Walhart stood over Du'jao. He was lying on the ground, the wound above his chest bleeding profusely over him and into the mud underneath. "You thought you could conquer the Conqueror?"

Du'jao's body was shaking. He struggled to keep his eyes open. He felt himself going in and out of consciousness; one moment he was in unbearable pain, the next he was hearing his late wife whisper in his ear.

 _"You have fought valiantly, my love."_ He could picture her in his head, looking just as lovely as the day Death had taken her. _"But it is time for you to put up your sword. I'm waiting for you…"_

 _"Wait a little longer, my sweet_ ," he replied. _"Give me a moment longer on this earth. And then I shall return to your side, finally, for the rest of eternity._ "

She smiled at him before she disappeared into the clouds of his mind, and he was again shaken back into consciousness. He gasped aloud, writhing in pain and struggling to breathe. Replaced by his wife's kindly face was that of the monster Walhart. He was staring down at him with an expression Du'jao didn't quite comprehend – was that pity in his depthless eyes?

"For Chon'sin." His voice was but a hoarse whisper, and he struggled for many moments before he could form the words. "For freedom." Shakily, with every ounce of energy he had left in his being, he clenched his right hand into a fist and brought it down upon his chest, just below the wound Walhart had inflicted upon him. He was not going to meet death like a whimpering pup; nay, he was going to die with dignity and pride. He knew his death would not be in vain. He had fought for his country and his people and the Cause. He had hope that Lady Say'ri would finish what they had started. Chon'sin would never fall to Walhart. He knew that the people of Chon'sin would never bow to Walhart, even if it meant death.

 _My only regret_ , he thought as his eyes began to close, _is that I never had a chance to meet my grandson…_

Walhart stared down at the body for some time, even after it was clear Du'jao had passed into another world. Then he turned his back to him and mounted his horse.

"Your General is dead," he bellowed into the sudden silence of the battlefield. It occurred to him that the opposing army must've been making their retreat, if they hadn't already. "But he has fought valiantly, and has died with honor. Foolish, perhaps, but admirable. So it is that I will leave you be for the rest of the night. But come next time…" His eyes were dark. "I will not be so merciful."

* * *

Sweat was pouring down Say'ri's face. The heat of the volcano they fought upon was causing her movements to become sluggish. For a moment she wondered if Robin was a genius or was mad. Perhaps, she thought ruefully as she swung her sword down upon an enemy's shoulder, he was both.

"Milady Say'ri, how are you faring?" Fet'mie, just as sweaty as Say'ri, looked down at her from upon her horse. Say'ri noticed that her bag of arrows was empty.

"This heat inhibits my movements," she admitted. "I fear this battle will last days."

Fet'mie blinked at her. "Oh – that was not quite what I was asking, milady." Her voice grew quiet towards the end. Say'ri frowned at her in confusion, but then quickly realized what she was saying.

She grew quiet and looked ahead, where far down on the other side of the volcano her brother stood guard, waiting. Her throat grew tight. Memories flashed across her mind – her brother was teaching her how to yield a sword twice her size; they were helping the chefs cook dinner for a surprise for Mother and Father; the coldness with which he had treated her during the months after their parents' passing. Her resolve hardened, then, and her grip on her weapon tightened. Her brows drew together.

"He is my brother," she said, and she cursed her voice for warbling slightly. She straightened her shoulders and hoped her eyes were devoid of the emotion she felt. "He is my responsibility. And for that reason…" She trailed a finger against the blade of her sword, her eyes glinting when they landed on the insignia of the High Family.

 _"This mark" – Her father, his hair long and black_ (not the grey she had last seen him with), _pointed at the insignia of the crossed swords on the hilt of his sword – "Has served as the insignia of our family for centuries. Do you know what it represents, my sweet?"_

 _"Our strength in arms?" questioned Say'ri. "Our skills in the mastering of the sword?"_

 _"Both are true," agreed Meng'shai with a smile. "But what these swords really mean is that we are brothers-in-arms; we, the High Family, with our people, and we, as Chon'sin citizens, with our neighboring countries. And," he added with a furtive smile, leaning in close to her, "if anyone is to ever cross us, they will have twice the blades to worry about."_

She couldn't even begin to imagine how disappointed – horrified, actually – her parents would be if they could see what had become of their son. He had betrayed not only his kin, but also his countrymen. He had practically handed them all over to slaughter. A disgrace he was to the High Family name. But now he had to pay the price – he had to deal with twice the blade.

Her eyes grew hard and resolute. "I must be the one to finish him."

Fet'mie shifted uneasily on her horse but remained silent. For the rest of the battle she fought alongside her lady's side. She was less skilled with her sword than she was her bow and arrow, but she fought hard nonetheless, utilizing this as her opportunity to improve her swordsmanship. All the while, in the back of her mind she thought of the final showdown that was to ultimately come between the two Chon'sin royals. Though she would never dare admit it aloud, she feared for her lady's life. Although Lady Say'ri was a very skilled swordswoman, King Yen'fay had years of experience on her, and several more on the battlefield. He was deadlier than her; faster, bigger, and ruthless, there were few who could best him. It was why Fet'mie refused to leave her lady's side; should the occasion arise, she would help Lady Say'ri finish King Yen'fay.

But she was worried about more than just Lady Say'ri's abilities. She was worried about her moral fiber. Could she truly go through with this? Would she really be able to kill her own blood? The answer would come soon enough, she realized with a jolt, because they were closing in on Yen'fay. They first had to get through the flank of soldiers that guarded him. Before Say'ri and Fet'mie could move forward, however, a sudden bolt of lightning flashed through the middle of the soldiers, causing them to scatter.

"Now's your chance, Say'ri!" came a shout from the tactician. Fet'mie glanced over her shoulder to see him sitting behind Lady Sumia on her Pegasus. "GO!"

"Milady!" cried Fet'mie as Say'ri dashed through the broken lines, taking advantage of the soldiers' confusion. Fet'mie moved forward to pursue her, but her path was quickly blocked by the enemy as they reformed their group. "Fie! Blast you wretched curs!" She swung her sword, trying to get them to move back. "Lady Say'ri!" she shouted after the Princess desperately. As her fear mounted, her movements became more erratic, which in turn made her more vulnerable to attack. An arrow lodged itself between her shoulder blades while a sword cut through her leg. She yelped in pain and pulled back.

"Get a grip on yourself!" came a harsh and familiar voice, and she turned in relief to see Lon'qu and Flavia rushing towards her.

"But Lady Say'ri…!" cried Fet'mie, oblivious to the mage taking aim at her from behind. Flavia flung her hand axe at him, whacking him right in the head. He tumbled over.

"Have faith in her, Fet'mie," Lon'qu said. His voice was hard and even, but his eyes were soft and gentle. He extended a hand out towards her, as if to touch her reassuringly, but quickly retracted it. "Trust that she will do what is right."

It was all she needed to hear to regain her senses. She nodded weakly at him and tightened her grip on her sword, prepared to battle.

~-x-~-x-~-x-~

Say'ri had heard Fet'mie's shout from somewhere far behind her. She'd ignored her, however, for her mind was preoccupied with Yen'fay. There was nothing that could get between her and her brother now. She cut through the two soldiers guarding his flanks like cutting through silk. Soon enough she was standing breathlessly before him. Blood was dripping down her sword and sweat gleamed on her face. Yen'fay, on the other hand, had not a blemish upon him. She had not seen him in months, but he looked the same as she had remembered him: stoic and emotionless.

"You have come far, sister." She wasn't sure if it was the heat finally getting to her, but she could've sworn she heard a hint of pride in his tone. "But you can go no further." His sword remained by his side, but she knew how quick he was on his feet. She gritted her teeth and shifted herself into a fighting stance.

"Nay, brother, I have not gone far enough." She readied her sword and took a deep breath. "Your reign of terror ends today." Her eyes blazed hotter than the heat of the volcano.

His eyes flickered and he too shifted into a fighting stance. The insignia of the High Family on his blade flashed at her for a second, and a sudden, irrational anger overcame her. For he did not deserve the sword that their father had fought with until his dying breath, their father who had fought for his country and his people, who had died with his blade in one hand and his honor in the other. "So be it."

Say'ri was the one to make the first move. She ran forward with a battle cry, slashing her sword forward. It met her brother's with a deafening clang. Sparks flew from their swords as their deadly dance began. She lunged forward; he blocked her attack swiftly and slashed forward to maim her wrist. She jumped back, narrowly avoiding the attack, only to raise her sword to block his next swing. Say'ri knew Yen'fay's movements and battling technique just as well as he knew hers; they were each able to anticipate the other's move. After a relentless back-and-forth of strike and block, block and strike, Say'ri was beginning to grow weary. She struggled to keep her footing against his relentless attacks.

"You have bettered your swordsmanship since last we fought." She was surprised by Yen'fay's comment, and the hint of pride she detected in it. He didn't let up, however, continuing to strike his sword against her own.

 _"Not fast enough!"_

 _She stared up at her brother, breathing hard. He stood before her like a godly figure, the rays of the early morning shining out from behind him and his face devoid of the sweat that dripped down Say'ri's own. She gritted her teeth, anger and jealousy filling her whole. Here she was, sweating like a pig and out of breath, and there he stood pristine as ever. She hadn't challenged him in the slightest._

 _"Come now, Say'ri," called Yen'fay appeasingly. "There is no need to become upset. It will only further cloud your judgement and technique."_

 _"It seems to me that my technique is clouded enough as it is," she replied drily. She ignored the hand he extended towards her and stood up on her own._

 _He shook his head. "Do not be so hard on yourself. We all have our strengths and weaknesses – we must simply learn from them and try to improve ourselves."_

 _She sighed. "I know, I know." She knew how childish she was acting, but she couldn't help herself. She was tired of always losing. She reluctantly picked up her sword from the ground. "But you must understand. It is disheartening to spar with you every day and not once become even close to besting you."_

 _The corner of his lips rose in a half-smile. "I do understand how that feels." She raised a brow questioningly. "I have yet to best Father," he explained, his voice lowering. "So I will keep training until one day, I do." His smile grew, and his eyes were soft and sincere. "Just like one day, you will best me."_

"Today is the day," she cried as her sword caught Yen'fay's hilt unexpectedly, "that I finally best you!" The sword fell with its master and, for the first time ever, it was Yen'fay who stared up at Say'ri from the ground. Her sword was pointed at his throat.

Slowly he raised his eyes from her sword to her eyes. She was breathless and sweaty and bloody, but triumphant she stood, her eyes gleaming and her mouth set in a tight line.

"…Indeed," he agreed quietly. "It seems you have finally bested me, sister." A hint of a smile crossed his expression.

Tears filled her eyes as her breaths became ragged. She knew what this meant. She knew what she had to do. Yet her sword shook in her hand and doubt and guilt and hurt tore through her. "You promised." Tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "You promised you would protect our people – and me – until your dying breath." She felt like a young girl again, accusing her brother of a promise he had not kept, weeping like a lass who had cut her finger.

He smiled at her serenely. "And so I have."

And suddenly she was furious. Furious at him for mocking her, furious at herself for not slitting his throat right then and there, furious at the memories that flashed through her head and stayed her hand. "You betrayed us!" she shouted, losing control of herself, losing sight of everything. "You betrayed us all! Our kingdom, our people, your kin…" She took a long and deep breath, steadying herself. "Oh, how Mother and Father would be most disappointed in you, Yen'fay." Her eyes flickered sadly. "I certainly am."

His expression grew guilty then, and he closed his eyes as if to hide away the pain. "I am sorry for disappointing you, sister. I never wished for anything ill to befall you or our people. I only wished to do what was best for us all."

"By signing away our freedom to the devil himself?" she sneered in disgust.

He opened his eyes, and they were filled with grief and sadness. "If that is what must be done," he said slowly, "to protect my people. Though it may never make sense to you, Say'ri, everything I have done, every sin I have committed, was done for the good of Chon'sin."

Mad, he was, to think that all this blood and destruction was for the good of their people. Say'ri's lips curled in disgust, and she had half a mind to spit on him in contempt.

He was oblivious to her contempt; he smiled softly and said, "And now, you too, must commit an act for the good of Chon'sin." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I am glad, at least, that I was able to share this last moment with you, my dearest sister. May Naga keep you under her wing, and may you lead the people of Chon'sin like I was never able to." He opened his eyes one last time. His expression was serene, like that of a man who had not only accepted his death but was ready to embrace it. "Mother and Father would be proud of you." His eyes crinkled when he smiled, looking so much like Father that it stung her. "I certainly am."

 _"Can I count on you two to watch after one another?" Her mother's green eyes were piercing._

 _"Of course, Mother." Her brother stood beside her, strong and resolute._

 _"We will make you proud," she claimed. "This we vow."_

 _"Ah, but my sweet." Her father's chuckle was gentle. "You already have."_

Her face was wet with sweat and tears. The hand that held her sword shook. "You lie," she croaked. Yen'fay's eyebrows rose in surprise. "They would not be proud of me, but ashamed. Have you forgotten, brother?" She offered him a watery smile. "We promised them we would take care of each other. Yet here I stand, ready to take your life." She shook her head. "They would never forgive me, just as I could never forgive myself."

She took a step back and lowered her sword. Her brother stared at her, wide-eyed and shocked.

"For you are my brother, Yen'fay. My blood. The last of my kin. No matter how much you have wronged me and my people, I could never take your life." She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry; her feelings and emotions were so jumbled up she could no longer tell right from left.

 _"You're making a mistake!"_ A part of her screamed. _"Finish him now while you have the chance!"_

But she could not. She could not bring herself to take her brother's life like she had so easily done with the rest of the Valmese troops. For even though this man was twisted and disillusioned, he was still her brother and always would be. She hung her head in defeat, ashamed of herself for not being able to put aside her feelings for the sake of the Resistance.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting to happen next – perhaps for Yen'fay to rise and cut off her head – but she certainly hadn't been expecting him to throw back his head and laugh. It was rare to see him laugh as it was, let alone in such a dire situation as this.

"By Naga, Say'ri, you're even madder than Walhart." His laughter died down, but the smile remained on his lips. "Even madder than me, perhaps."

"I'm not sure I would go so far as to say that," she replied sardonically. "I was not the one who threw away her country for power."

"Nay, but you just threw away the Resistance for me." He rose to his feet now. She wanted to distance herself from him, but she stood her ground proudly and with dignity. She was not going to flee from death like a frightened pup. She was going to face it bravely, just as her parents had. "I have always said that you allow your emotions get the best of you, sister. How often have I told you to never let your feelings cloud your judgement?" His tone was scolding.

"I suppose you must remind me once more," she sighed, half-incredulous at him for lecturing her, half-resigned to what was to inevitably to come. "For it seems my emotions will be the death of me."

He raised his brows in surprise. "Death?" Then he shook his head and chuckled. "I could never take your life, Say'ri, just as you could not take mine. In fact, the entire reason I've done all this was to _avert_ your death."

She put a hand to her head, wondering if the heat had finally driven her mad. Her brother's words made no sense whatsoever; how did he expect her to possibly believe that this war had all been for her sake?

He explained to her, then. About how Excellus had threatened to kill her if Yen'fay did not join Walhart; how Walhart would rain blood upon the streets if Yen'fay did not agree to his demands; how his heart had yearned for him to stand his ground and fight; and how he had held his pride at bay in order to fulfill his duty of protecting his people.

Say'ri was conflicted. She didn't know what to believe. Were the words her brother spoke true, or were they some ploy to trick her? She wanted to believe him, but after his betrayal she could no longer trust him. Yet, if they were lies he spoke, why didn't he cut her down? Why make up this elaborate scheme when he easily could've taken her down when he had the chance? It made sense, too, what he said. It sounded more like the Yen'fay she knew, the man who stayed true to his people and kin (despite the fact that in reality he had only alienated them by doing what he thought was his only option, siding with Walhart).

He saw the inner turmoil she was battling with. He bowed his head and said, "I know that this must all be very overwhelming for you." He smiled sheepishly. "I am sorry for all the confusion and pain I've caused you. You have been brave, Say'ri, so very brave, fighting for your land and your people, all the while your life has been on the line. I only ask that you be brave once more. Give me a chance. Let me prove to you my worth." His tone was not pleading. His words rang as strong and true as he stood. She knew, then, what had to be done. It took one look at him, at the gleam in his eyes, to clear her mind of any doubt.

"You do not need to prove to me your worth." He raised his brows, and for the first time in her life she saw fear in his eyes. She smiled, tears forming in her eyes again. "You are my brother, my only kin; you are worth more to me than anything else in the world." She spread her arms wide, half-laughing, half-sobbing. "Welcome back, brother. I've missed you."

She thought she saw something glimmer in his eyes. "And I you."

He stepped forward into her embrace, and no more words needed to be spoken.

* * *

 _Plot twists/changes are the best. Yup, you read that right. Yen'fay's life has been spared. It's not because I was sad about killing him off, I just thought the whole 'him siding with Walhart to save Say'ri' plot didn't make enough sense. What, did he not think that Excellus could easily kill Say'ri after Yen'fay himself was killed? And I don't think it's very realistic for her to be killing off her brother. That's definitely not a decision you make lightly._

 _And Khan Basilio hasn't "died" either. Poor Du'jao took his place instead. As morbid as it might sound, I wanted to kill someone off to show that war ain't something to be taken lightly._


End file.
